by Felix Baron
Kitty, under her breath, whispered, ‘Penetrates the flesh.’
Wanda couldn’t help but echo, ‘Penetrates the flesh.’ She and Kitty exchanged sly glances and didn’t giggle.
Henry continued. ‘Once they are out of the oven, they are opened, topped with clotted cream and served very quickly, while the hot and cold still contrast. I think you’ll find them amusing. If not, there’s an ample dessert buffet to choose from.’
‘I’ve never heard of that dish,’ Wanda admitted. ‘What’s it called?’
‘I haven’t named it yet. If you like it, perhaps it will be “Figs Wanda”.’
‘Your recipe?’
‘The chef here allows me to dabble.’
Oh! He likes to dress up. He cooks fancy desserts. Please, please, please don’t let him be gay!
The chef himself appeared, complete with his high hat and check pants, and served them each with a single cream-slathered fig in a cut-glass coupe. Henry thanked him. He bowed to the table and retreated to his domain.
Wanda picked up her dessert fork. As she prodded through the cream, a perfume that could have got her drunk just from breathing deeply burst up at her. She dug in and scooped a morsel out. Oh! It did things on her tongue, soothing things, but exciting things. Her sinuses seemed to sigh. Beneath her tongue, saliva pooled. Wanda sucked in a deep breath. It tingled all the way down into her lungs. Perhaps deeper.
‘How do you like it?’ Henry asked.
Everyone but Wanda proclaimed their approval. She was too busy enjoying the contrast of texture between clotted cream and tiny smooth fig seeds. Eventually, she managed to breathe, ‘Divine!’
Kitty added, ‘Devilishly so! Figs Diablo?’
For a while, the table was quiet as all devoured Henry’s creations. That seemed to make the noise from the other table louder. There was a squeal of chair legs on hardwood as one of the oafs twisted round to glare at Henry.
‘Hey, you, sailor boy! You got four fine-lookin’ bitches there and we got none. That’s no fair! Send ’em over to us and we’ll show ’em how real men treat their women.’
Henry dabbed at his lips with a napkin, set it down carefully and stood up. ‘I suggest that you and your friends pay your bill and leave.’ His voice was soft and calm.
‘Oh yeah?’ The hooligan snatched his glass beer mug up and cracked it down on the edge of his table, leaving a glittering multi-bladed weapon in his trembling fist.
Wanda stood in fear for her fiancé, though what she could do was beyond her.
The man swung shards of glass at Henry’s face. Henry brushed it aside with his left hand and looped his right fist up and over to slam down on the man’s cheek, driving him to his knees. He swayed, then toppled to lie there, face distorted, eyes closed, blood trickling from his nose and bubbling from the corner of his mouth.
Henry looked at the man’s three companions. ‘I repeat, I suggest that you pay your bill and leave.’
The three looked at each other sheepishly. One said, ‘George was drunk.’
‘And so are you,’ Henry observed. ‘And now George is on the floor.’
The three tossed bills onto the table. Two of them lifted George by his armpits and dragged him out, followed by the third.
Wanda wrapped her arms around her hero’s arm. ‘That was magnificent,’ she told him.
Lucinda, Martha and Kitty all added their praise, but it was Wanda who got to hold him close. Under his sleeve, his arm was massive and unyielding.
The maître d’ bustled up to their table. ‘I am so sorry, Mr Chandler. I had no idea they were already drunk before they came in. I’ll ban them from the premises, of course.’
‘Not your fault,’ Henry assured him. ‘Better clear their table and take care of the broken glass, right?’
‘Of course! Immediately!’ He hustled away.
Wanda said, ‘The least he could have done after that incident is comp you our meals, Henry.’
Martha laughed. ‘He couldn’t very well do that, you silly girl. Henry owns this restaurant. He won’t be given a bill.’
Henry fixed Wanda’s mother with a look that Wanda hoped would never be aimed at her. ‘Martha, unless someone had told her, how could Wanda be expected to know that? In other circumstances, she’d be absolutely right. It would have been totally appropriate.’
Martha looked down, blushing. She mumbled something that might have been an apology to Wanda.
What a man! He tackles hooligans without blinking and he defends her against her mother, a much more courageous feat. How could a girl not love a man like that? And, as for doubting his masculinity, how utterly ridiculous that was!
Chapter Five
After brunch, Henry had a meeting. Martha and Lucinda decided to take in some art galleries, or so they said, between giggles. Wanda had her suspicions. Kitty was at a loose end and obviously hinting, so Wanda asked her if she’d like to help her shop for Western gear, for the upcoming long weekend. It turned out that Henry’s childhood friend knew exactly where to shop for stretch-fit jeans and denim short-shorts, plus a couple each of clinging micro- and hobbling-tight maxi-skirts that she promised would ‘drive him crazy with lust’ when combined with check shirts that tied to leave her midriff bare and high-heeled Western boots.
‘How does Henry look when he’s “driven crazy with lust”?’ Wanda asked Kitty, nervous about the answer.
‘You’ll see,’ was the calm reply. ‘He doesn’t go all red and slobbering, like some men, but you’ll see it in his eyes, if you haven’t already.’
‘So you’ve seen what he looks like “in heat”?’ Wanda asked.
Kitty slapped Wanda’s rear. ‘No need to be jealous, Wanda. He and I have double dated, not as a couple but as the other halves of other couples, if you get me.’
Wanda nodded, unsure.
‘You didn’t think he was a virgin, did you?’
‘Of course not.’
‘And nor are you, right? Sauce for the goose, as they say. Anyway, not to worry. I’ve seen him look at you in ways I’ve never seen him look at any other woman. I could almost envy you.’
‘Why don’t you?’
‘He’s my cousin, silly!’
‘You two wouldn’t be the first cousins …’
‘Nor the last. Let’s change the subject. Do you have your trousseau picked out, yet? I’m sure that there’s lots left on that credit card.’
So they shopped for undies that Wanda was going to have to hide from her mom, though, once she and Henry were married, it’d only be his approval she’d have to worry about. Wanda treated Kitty to a couple of things, mainly because the girl didn’t so much as hint that she expected it.
She found that she warmed to Kitty, even though …
She blurted, ‘My mom seems to think that Henry is very conservative in his ways. Is that true?’
Kitty pondered. ‘In some ways. You don’t know him that well, do you?’
‘No. It’s been kind of a whirlwind courtship. We haven’t had a lot of time alone together yet.’
‘All the more fun exploring each other’s little ways once you’re married, then.’
‘I hope so. I really hope so.’
‘Cheer up. Time for a cocktail before you have to go home?’
‘As I’m out without my mom for a change, I’ve time for two!’
Wanda felt sure that the slightest hint from her would have had them in bed together that very afternoon, but that, no matter how tempting, would make her life far too complicated. Still, if her worst fears about Henry proved correct, Kitty would make a lovely consolation prize. Henry had proved his masculinity but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t the stuffed shirt that her mom seemed convinced he was.
When she got back to the apartment she shared with her mother, her mom’d had at least a couple of cocktails herself, so Wanda was able to smuggle her secret purchases up to her bedroom. Let sleeping moms lie. There was a huge carton sitting on her bed. Wanda loved presents. She tore the
box apart like a lion tears at an antelope, or, it occurred to her, like a very horny woman tears the pants off her lover.
She uncovered a giant teddy bear. It stood tall enough to come up to her nipples when its hind paws were on the floor. There was no doubt that it was a female bear. Its silky plush fur was pink. It had upswept eyelashes that were a good two inches long, a pink bow on top of its head and a tiny pink tongue that poked out between its ursine lips.
It couldn’t have a male name, so it wasn’t ‘Teddy’. Wanda decided that she’d call it ‘Edwina’, which she’d then abbreviate to ‘Teddy’. Obviously, it was not only female, it was also a lesbian bear. That’d be much more fun.
Wanda went downstairs to check on her mom. She was still asleep on the couch with a silly grin on her face. Wanda covered her with a throw, had a quick goodnight gin and tonic, and went back up to shower.
With her mom fast asleep downstairs, it was OK for Wanda to leave the bathroom naked, still towelling herself dry. One day, she hoped, she’d do the same in front of Henry. And he’d approve heartily. Of course he would. For him, she’d dance with her towel serving as a fan-dancer’s fan, or she’d even prance like a pony, like this … She high-stepped, pointing her toes, twirling and skipping to amuse her husband, her lover, her friend.
Oops! She was fantasising again, but this time about Henry. That was new. Did it mean that she was making progress? She’d have to ask Dr Sullivan when she saw him.
Edwina, ‘Teddy’, was waiting in Wanda’s bedroom, sitting up in the old rocking chair. Wanda bowed with a flourish, flinging her towel aside.
‘Lovely body!’ the bear told her in a deep but certainly feminine contralto.
‘Thank you, Teddy. I only have one bed, I’m afraid. Do you mind if we share? No? Come on, then. Oh – and I don’t have any nightclothes that would fit you, Teddy, my dear. Still, it’s just us girls, so that’s all right.
Wanda’s was a double bed but Teddy was quite bulky so they had to snuggle close, face-to-face. Wanda said, ‘Goodnight, Teddy,’ and pecked her bear on the lips. That, of course, poked the animal’s tiny pink tongue between Wanda’s lips. She’d assumed it was made of some sort of fabric but it didn’t feel at all like cloth. It felt like some sort of rubbery material, complete with a texture that mimicked taste buds.
Hm.
Wanda kissed again, a little sucking kiss. Teddy groaned appreciatively. Unfortunately, the way her toy had been made, really deep kisses weren’t possible, but tongue-tip to tongue-tip was nice, in a teasing sort of way. Wanda snuggled in closer. Teddy’s left leg flopped up over Wanda’s right leg. A furry right leg insinuated itself between Wanda’s smooth thighs. Plush tickled Wanda’s tummy. She wriggled, drawing her bear in even closer. Furry pubes pressed against peach-fuzz ones. Wanda gave a little bump. Teddy, perhaps helped by Wanda’s hand on her rump, pushed back.
This wasn’t a fantasy, Wanda reminded herself, apart from the way she interpreted the bear’s growls. This was, however, being honest, masturbation, using an inanimate object. Women used vibrators. That wasn’t considered aberrant anymore. Even so, Wanda suspected that fucking teddy bears was still considered a bit kinky, at the least. Never mind. Dr Sullivan would sort the pros and cons out for her.
Teddy growled.
‘Sorry, I was distracted.’ Wanda sucked Teddy’s little tongue and ground her hips hard against her new lover.
Tongue? Wanda experimented by pulling Teddy’s head down to her breast and rubbing that rubbery nub on her nipple. It felt nice, and when Wanda pushed Teddy’s head back, her legs slid further between Wanda’s. Wanda pressed the bear’s shoulders away and wriggled down even harder. The animal’s right leg came right up to divide Wanda’s breasts. Her left leg stuck up along Wanda’s back. Wanda reached behind herself to grab a hind paw. Her other hand took hold of the other furry ankle. When Wanda pulled up on the front leg, then tugged the back one, bear-pubes sawed on Wanda’s pussy, squishing its lips and grinding on her clit. See-saw. See-saw. There was no penetration but the friction was certainly … interesting. Very interesting. Very, very interesting.
Climactically interesting.
OK, so it wasn’t spectacular, but it was a different way to get off. That had to count for something. Perhaps that nice little orgasm would protect her from her fantasies for a while? Whatever, her sleep that night was dreamless.
Chapter Six
Wanda woke to find Teddy with her head on the floor and her hind legs up on the bed. She pulled her new friend up. ‘Teddy, how do you feel about anal sex?’ It was a reasonable question to ask a bear who might well be sharing her marriage bed one day. ‘Do you like to take big bare cocks up your tight bear bum?’
Teddy didn’t answer, of course. Wanda giggled. It had to be a healthy sign that she could joke to herself about her problem with fantasising.
It was a busy day. First, Dr Sullivan, who accepted her twenty-two-page single-spaced printout of a week’s worth of erotic fantasies without comment. He was hard to read. Wanda thought he approved of her fantasising about Henry, now, and he seemed to agree that her bear episode didn’t belong on her list of imagined perversions, as it wasn’t imagined. He didn’t say that it was a kinky thing to do but neither did he say that it wasn’t. His face was stone when she admitted to being attracted to Henry’s cousin Kitty. Perhaps that was the sign of a good therapist, that the patient had no idea what was right or wrong.
Finally, Wanda bitched about it having been so long since she’d had her hands on a nice erection – so Dr Sullivan let her spend the rest of her appointment playing with his.
After lunch, Wanda headed for her sartorial appointment.
Mr Pink, Bespoke Habits, had a tiny body and a big head. If his ears had been a bit larger and pointed, he’d have been a perfect elf. He pranced around his premises so lightly that his black patent shoes barely whispered against the thick carpet. His being such a flaming queen, Wanda had no qualms about him measuring her inside leg. She had to wonder, though, how Henry felt about having the same measurement taken.
Maybe one day she’d measure Henry’s inside leg. Both legs, to be sure. He ‘dressed left’ she thought. So when she measured his right leg, several times, she’d let the knuckles of her right hand run gently up the inside of his left thigh. Then she’d look up into his eyes, because he’d be looking down at her, and do it again, no longer pretending that it was accidental. He’d smile. She’d turn her hand and fondle the thickening length of his flesh through the cloth of his pants. Henry would put his hand on her head, giving her his blessing to continue. Her other hand would tug his zipper down. She’d reach in and fumble until she found his heat. His fingers would tighten in her hair. She’d pull the entire length of his magnificent erection out into the open and inspect it, carefully and slowly, making sure to breathe on it. Her lips would part. She’d lick her lips at him. She’d stretch out her tongue, desperate for a taste but Henry’s fingers would grip tight, pulling at the roots of her hair as he prevented her from reaching her treat – and then he’d relent. Her lips would stretch wide to fit over that smooth hard dome and her tongue –
‘Could you sit down please, Miss Mitty? I have to measure your head,’ Mr Pink said.
Head? Oh well, she guessed he knew what he was doing. She said, ‘Sorry. I guess I was daydreaming.’
Mr Pink smiled. ‘That’s natural, for a young bride.’
Had he read her mind?
Mr Pink was meticulous. Wanda had been measured for clothes before but never before had she had the distance between her nape and her left nipple taken, then the same to her right nipple. She tried to peek at Mr Pink’s notes, just to be sure those two measurements were identical, but his fluttering hands made that impossible. When it came to her feet, not only did he measure each one’s length and width but also floor-to-arch, floor-to-instep and two diameters. Those were followed by the distance around her ankles and around her calves at two different heights. Her boots, she was convinced, were going to f
it with a capital ‘F’.
How deliciously sybaritic!
‘What will my outfit be like, Mr Pink?’ she asked. ‘What colour?’
‘I have my instructions from Mr Chandler,’ he replied.
‘But …?
‘That’s all I’m free to tell you, Miss. I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise now, would I?’
Wanda felt like stamping one foot at that but Henry wasn’t there to see her being cutely childish, so she didn’t bother.
Chapter Seven
A stretch limousine arrived to take Wanda and her mom to the airport. Both ladies wore plain jeans and casual sweaters. As Martha explained, ‘Air travel is an ordeal. It ruins good clothes.’
They drove right past the airport. Martha tapped on the dividing window and told their driver, ‘You’ve made a wrong turn, young man. The entrance is behind us now. Can you turn around?’
‘No, Madam, sorry. I thought you knew. That was the public airport. We’ll be at our destination in a few minutes.’
Martha ‘humphed’. Wanda didn’t say a word. The limo turned in through tall gates and followed a private road to a small jet that was parked outside a hangar. The plane was dark green with a gold racing stripe. Ostentatious?
‘Here you are, ladies,’ their driver told them. ‘Don’t worry about your luggage. It’s being taken care of.’
They were greeted by a woman – oh, it was Kitty! She was dressed as a stewardess, not a ‘flight attendant’, but definitely a ‘stew’. Her uniform jacket was tight-waisted. Her skirt was two inches longer than her jacket. Even so, it had slits up the sides. She had very good legs, as Wanda already knew. And Wanda was wearing practical jeans. Damn!
Henry liked ‘dress up’. That was fine, but it should have been Wanda dressing up to cater to his whims, not cousin Kitty.
‘Welcome to Chandler One,’ Kitty told them. ‘This way please, ladies.’