I put some music on and messed about round the pole, feeling unexpectedly self-conscious. I was wearing tiny shorts and a T-shirt, my feet bare.
“I want to see something spectacular,” she said.
“Quite demanding, aren’t you? So you want to see some pole tricks? Okay, I’ll give you tricks.” I slipped on my six-inch PVC platform heels and pulled my T-shirt over my head to reveal my cherry-red polka dot bikini top. I then grabbed the pole and deftly executed a sequence of spins before gracefully throwing myself upside down on the pole and hanging by one ankle, at which point my breasts fell out of my bikini top as I knew they would. We both laughed.
“Very impressive,” she said and I wondered if she meant the tricks. “I wish I could do that.”
“What, get your tits out?”
Now it was her turn to blush. “I meant the pole dancing.”
“Anyone can learn, with practice.”
“I doubt that.”
“I’ll show you.”
Firmly, I took her right hand and placed it on the pole. “Feel how smooth it is. Now, place your left hand there, about chest height. Lift your outside leg and swing it round the pole, hooking on. Then bring your left leg round to meet it.”
She looked dubious but followed my instructions and successfully managed to do a basic move. “Hey, I did it.” She was thrilled.
“I told you, didn’t I? Want to try it again? Imagine you have an audience.”
“I don’t have to imagine, do I?”
She repeated the spin, more confidently this time. The track had switched from upbeat house to haunting sexy Goldfrapp.
“That’s very good. Shall I show you another trick?”
“I’d rather watch you instead,” she replied, twisting a strand of auburn hair around her finger.
“A private dance then?”
She nodded.
I started to move sinuously around the pole, pivoting, circling, spinning, caressing the pole with my legs, my hands, rubbing my body against it, dancing for her. She was captivated as I climbed and inverted, the moves flowing seamlessly into each other. I ran my fingers through my long black hair, down my face, my body, pushing my firm breasts together, my hips snaking. Slowly and gradually, I slipped my bikini straps off my shoulders, keeping my breasts covered, teasing. Finally, while still sitting on the pole, I let my bikini top fall to my waist, revealing my brown nipples, which were already hard. All the time, I retained eye contact with Lisa, noting her expressions, her reactions to the impromptu show she was getting. I slid down the pole and continued the dance, unhooking my bikini top. But instead of tossing it to the floor, I stepped towards her and in a quick movement, wrapped it around Lisa’s wrists, tying it securely. She gasped, and while she was deciding how to respond, I pinned them above her head and fastened them to the pole.
“What are you doing?” she murmured, her voice strangely distant.
“What does it look like?” I buried my mouth in her soft auburn hair. “I’m seducing you.”
I could feel her heart beating faster, her breathing more rapid now. But she made no attempt to pull free. My fingers found the knot of her halter neck top and swiftly undid it, letting it drop on to the polished floor. She groaned as my hungry mouth found her erect nipples, licking and teasing and sucking while my right hand travelled down her satin skin and unzipped her skirt, letting that, too, fall to the floor.
“No knickers,” I remarked. “You are a naughty girl.”
My fingers hovered, tracing ever decreasing circles on her soft belly, down, inexorably, to her smooth, shaved pussy. Slowly. Very slowly, making her wait, teasing her. When, eventually, I exerted the lightest fingertip pressure on her clit, she cried out, as if it was a jolt of electricity. To stifle the sound, I covered her open mouth with mine, kissing her hard, using my tongue. At first, she let me kiss her, simply received the pleasure, but soon she was returning my attention, tentatively at first, then greedier until her passion matched my own. We consumed each other, our sweat mingling, our breasts glistening and sliding together, until we were melting. She pushed her eager wet pussy into my hand as far as she could, her body writhing, hands straining, but I wasn’t ready to untie her. Yet. I continued to tantalize her helpless juicy clit, muffling her groans and whimpers with my left hand now, lowering my head to nibble and nip her exposed breasts as she wriggled and arched, so close to coming. When I felt her muscles tensing, I took my fingers away and she bit my hand, squealing with frustration.
“Bitch,” she muttered, her eyes wide and needy.
I smiled. “Want more?” Before she could reply, I pushed her legs apart and knelt down between them, tonguing her delicious pussy, tasting her, breathing in her essence whilst tantalizing her clit with my right thumb and forefinger. Within seconds, she’d exploded, screaming and bucking, my mouth still clamped on her, my hands now clutching her lovely peachy bum cheeks.
She sighed. “About the pole,” she murmured dreamily. “When I move in, you don’t need to take it down.”
“Why’s that?” I replied, wondering whether to untie her before or after I made her come again.
She gave me a cheeky grin. “I like shiny things.”
Vavoom
Jay Lawrence
“Oh, that does feel good. Please don’t stop!”
Warm fingers massaged the nape of my neck, kneading and circling in small, firm movements. I felt my tension melt away. The girl laughed.
“Some people come here just for this alone.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me, Kara!”
Tepid water coursed over the crown of my head.
“Could you make it hotter?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you, sweetie.”
Smooth, lightly scented skin brushed my cheek as the girl reached forward to adjust the faucet behind my head. It had to be at least six months since I’d been in for a haircut. I felt almost guilty, cringing inwardly as Kara raised a perfect eyebrow at my split ends. What a gorgeous girl she was, though. A perfect figure. Large, firm breasts and smooth, round hips. She usually wore skin-tight jeans and a loose-necked style of top, so that you could admire her cleavage when she bent to squirt the shampoo onto your hair. I envied her hair, a lush curling waist-length mass that varied in hue from dazzling auburn to jet black, depending on Kara’s mood du jour.
“So, what can I do for you today, Mrs B?”
God, she made me feel like a senior citizen. OK, so I wasn’t twenty-something like Kara, but I wasn’t ready for the scrapyard yet. I gave my usual response.
“Just trim it to shoulder length, cut me a wispy fringe and add as much volume as you can, please.”
“You’re sure you don’t want to try something new?”
I stared longingly at the deep crevasse of golden skin before my eyes. Kara’s breasts wobbled as she briskly massaged the shampoo through my saturated locks. I had an intense urge to reach up and squeeze them. Her fiance was a lucky guy. I sighed softly.
“Any suggestions?”
It’s not always wise to give your stylist free rein but I felt in the mood for taking a chance. Kara started to rinse off the suds, the water nice and hot, just the way I like it.
“Well, what about going a bit shorter than your regular style and adding some colour? It doesn’t have to be permanent, so if you don’t like it, it’ll wash out over a few shampoos.”
The young girl looked down at me with an appraising eye.
“You actually have quite a bit of red in your natural shade, so I’d suggest a light auburn tint. I think you’ll love it and it’ll really bring out those lovely blue eyes.”
I blushed. God help me, I actually went as red as the hue the stylist proposed!
“Are you sure the water isn’t too warm, Mrs B? You’ve gone rather pink.”
“It’s just perfect, thank you, Kara. And I think I’ll go with your ideas.”
The heat in my cheeks intensified as the girl applied a dollop of
conditioner and smoothed it sensuously over my squeaky-clean tresses. I looked blissfully up into a rather concerned pair of green eyes.
“You’re not having a hot flash, are you, Mrs B? Would you like a glass of water?”
I stiffened.
“I haven’t reached that stage of life yet, Kara. I’m just fine.”
It was the young girl’s turn to colour.
“Oops! Foot in mouth disease. But it does happen to women in their thirties, you know. My cousin . . .”
“Light auburn, you say? Can I see a shade chart?”
It was rude of me to interrupt but I’ve battled raging hormones for nearly three decades and the novelty of the topic has long since worn off. Kara entered obedient servant mode and fetched me a chart. I sat up as she swathed my head and shoulders in a towel and vigorously rubbed me dry. A dizzying selection of coloured hair swatches greeted my curious eye. How on earth could I select the right one for me?
“I think I’m going to need some help. I don’t want anything too bright.”
We left the basin and headed for the big swivel chair in front of the gilt-edged mirror. As usual, I tried to avoid my reflection in the glass. It’s not that I’m ugly – far from it, or so I’ve been told – but the bright overhead light is so unflattering. Kara flipped through the hair samples with a critical gaze. Finally, she selected one.
“I think we should try Vavoom!”
I laughed.
“Well, it certainly has a wonderful name. Let’s have a look.”
Kara laid the swatch against my cheek, nodded in satisfaction, then showed me the soft light auburn strands. Suddenly, I felt a surge of excitement, a sense of new and thrilling potentials opening up at the hint of a tint. A change of hair colour is like that, if it’s a well selected choice.
“I think I’ll take you in the back, Mrs B. The beautician doesn’t have a client right now and it’s much more relaxing than the main salon.”
Slightly surprised, I let the stylist lead me, draped in my plastic cape and towel, through a warren of cubicles to a small pink room with a state of the art reclining chair. Kara closed the door and, to my vague concern, locked it behind us. She smiled reassuringly.
“Don’t want us to be disturbed. You’re rather tense, Mrs B. I’d like to offer you a special relaxing treatment free of charge. I’ll do your hair too, of course. But first, I want to try out some special techniques I’ve been learning at home.”
I realized my mouth was hanging open like a fish and promptly closed it. Kara handed me a thick towelling robe and gestured to a screen.
“If you’ll just take off your clothes and put this robe on. This is all right with you, isn’t it, Mrs B? You do have time?”
“Yes, I suppose so, but tell me – what does this treatment involve?”
The young woman smiled.
“If you don’t mind, Mrs B, I’d like that to remain a surprise. I just know you’ll find it very helpful. Relaxing.”
Hmm. There was something about the way the girl was looking at me. Had she sensed my desire to lavish attention on her luscious boobs? Surely not. I was imagining things. I stepped behind the pretty floral screen and took off my clothes, feeling as nervy and awkward as a patient at a gynaecology clinic. The luxurious robe allayed my fears, however; super-thick, baby soft and lightly rose scented. Lovely. I crept out from behind the screen and lay down on the long leatherette chair. Kara appeared to be fiddling with some kind of electronic box. She turned off the bright overhead light, leaving just a soft pink glow from a silk shaded lamp. Mmm, I was already beginning to relax, with the comfortable seat and the gentle, perfumed atmosphere. The stylist leaned over me and I realized, with a sudden shock, that she was unwrapping the towelling robe.
“I just want to see. Don’t worry, Mrs B. Please relax. This is going to be wonderful, I promise.”
I held my breath as Kara exposed my naked torso. I have a very average kind of body, a bit plump around the tummy and hips. Quite large breasts of the soft and wobbly variety. Remembering that I had shaved my pussy the night before, I blushed again, glancing furtively down at my round pink Mound of Venus. The stylist turned to the little electronic box. A soft hum commenced as she turned a dial. Then she picked up what seemed to be a round-headed massaging device, attached to the box by a curly cord.
“You see, Mrs B, there is more than one kind of Vavoom. This is number two.”
Kara leaned over me, her boobies bulging almost in my face. I relaxed, deciding to enjoy the joyous vista sans guilt. After all, what did I have left to hide? The young woman applied the vibrating massage head to my shoulders. The moment the soft rubber cushion met my flesh it was as if we were intimately connected, Kara and I. Her breasts jiggled perfectly in time with the tiny circular motions her hand performed upon my yielding skin. It felt divine and I told her so. She smiled in satisfaction.
“I just knew you’d love it, Mrs B.”
Soft, springy curls of russet hair brushed my nipples and I felt a tiny drop of love-juice ease its way over my plump, nude labia. Kara was going to drive me crazy with this therapy of hers. I wanted to open my thighs to her. I was desperate for her to lower her crimson lips to nuzzle my clit. Suddenly, it occurred to me that she had asked me to lie face-up and, surely, such a massage would normally be done in the reverse position. Hmmm. Maybe there was more to the young lady than met the eye . . .
The whirring rubber cushion completed its shoulder-loosening task and headed south. I gasped as the buzzing sensation edged its way to the outer limits of my right breast. Was she really going to give me such an intimate massage?
“Breast massage is becoming quite popular these days. Stimulating the circulation seems to ease the symptoms of PMS. Would you like to try it, Mrs B?”
I swallowed hard and almost squeaked out an affirmative response. Would Kara gossip about me in the staff room? That lesbian pervert Mrs Bright. Well, too bad. She had started it! My right boob began to wobble outrageously, ecstatic sensations coursing through my blissed-out bod. It was too much. How could the girl keep a straight face; I wondered, as I watched the stylist carefully apply the massage-head to my large pink tits. It resembled a jelly in an earthquake. Carefully, Kara cupped my breast in her free hand, holding it gently as she moved the rubber cushion round and round. My nipples stood to attention, fully erect. My pussy was slick, creamy, juicy. I lay in an agony of ecstasy, a helpless victim to the pretty girl with the electronic box.
“I think I’ll turn it up a bit. You do seem to be benefiting, Mrs B.”
I bit my lip as the buzz intensified and Kara switched to my other breast. Instead of moving around the chair, she leaned further over me, almost tipping her bountiful cleavage into my face. I decided that she was a sadist and was on the verge of telling her so, when she paused to reach for a large pink bottle labelled “Crème de Aphrodite”. With a flick of her wrist she squirted a copious dollop of divinely scented mousse onto my chest and began to massage it all over my tit. I couldn’t help myself. I had an orgasm. I tried to suppress it, really I did, but I might as well have attempted to stop the tide. I glanced up at the stylist, feeling desperately guilty as the inner contractions ebbed away. Had she noticed? Smooth warm fingers kneaded my melony mounds, spreading the lovely moisturizing mousse. My boobs glistened. Kara looked pleased.
“I think you’re going to see a big improvement, Mrs B. Now, just turn over and I’ll do your other side.”
I eased myself out of the loosened robe and lay back down on my front. The smooth warm fingers rested on the small of my back.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice what happened then, Mrs B.”
I felt my face grow scarlet and was quite pleased that it was hidden from the girl. Her hand began to caress my buttocks and I moaned softly.
“I should spank you, shouldn’t I? Would you like it if I did?”
I was hearing things. I had to be hallucinating. The electronic pulsing had fried my nervous system and addled my brain. I grou
nd my hips against the warm soft surface of the leatherette chair. Almost involuntarily, I pushed my big plump bottom up towards the stylist’s hand. I adore being spanked. But I’d never been spanked by another woman.
“Naughty, Mrs B!”
Kara’s voice was mildly taunting, very amused. Suddenly, she brought the palm of her hand down smartly against the sensitive under-shelf of my naked rear. I yelped, more from surprise than pain. It was deliciously stingy.
“Having an orgasm in the beauty salon!”
The stingy sensation repeated itself. I squirmed, parting my thighs and beginning to make fucking motions on the chair. I desperately needed further release. Kara began to spank me quite hard, one hand on my back, the other slapping my wobbling buttocks fast and sharp.
“I’ll expect a decent tip after this session!”
I mumbled promises of generosity into the chair. I was coming again. My bottom felt hot and happy. It was way too long since I’d last been spanked. As my second orgasm began to break, the young girl pushed her heated fingers deep inside my pulsing cunt.
“Is that better, Mrs B? I bet that feels good. Turn over again and we’ll finish your treatment.”
I let her take me to a third and final high, her deft, strong fingers spreading my copious juice around and about my swollen clit. I was like putty in the young woman’s hands. She could do anything with me. This was therapy indeed. I lay well-oiled and gasping like a fish out of water, as Kara wrapped me in a heated towel.
“I trust I can put you down for a monthly session, Mrs B?”
The minx. We hadn’t even started on my new hairstyle. I’d need to take out a loan to pay my salon bills if the girl kept this up. A monthly session? Why, I’d have a daily one if I could afford it . . .
“So, that was ’Vavoom 2’.”
Kara laughed.
“Just wait ’til we do your hair. You’re going to be a new woman!”
I eased myself up from the oily chair. I could have happily stayed there all day, so deep was my sense of relaxation.
“That’s wonderful, Kara. Well, I suppose I did need a bit of a lift!”
The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica Page 23