Anne's Collection #1: Five Stories

by Anne Eton

  Suddenly, Jodie pulled the bottle away.

  “Ah, ah!” Jodie said. “Not yet.” Keeping her eyes locked on Rebecca’s, she poured a little rum into her free hand. Rebecca’s eyes followed Jodie’s hand as it rubbed the rum between Jodie’s legs. Some of the liquid ran onto the sheets.

  “Scoot down,” Jodie whispered.

  The blonde did not move. She seemed paralyzed, staring at Jodie’s dripping shaved mound.

  “Do it,” Jodie said in a voice of cold command.

  Slowly, Rebecca obeyed. She lay flat on the mattress.

  Jodie bent forward, placing her free hand on the headboard. She pivoted on one knee, straddling Rebecca’s head. She adjusted herself unhurriedly, sliding her feet under the girl’s arms.

  Rebecca watched Jodie’s smooth pussy settle inches from her face.

  Jodie reached down and brushed a strand of long blonde hair from the girl’s cheek. “Kiss,” she said simply.

  Rebecca hesitated. Then she closed her eyes. Raising her lips, she placed a tiny kiss on Jodie’s vagina. Jodie resisted the impulse to cry out, summoning her self-control. “Again,” she ordered.

  Rebecca complied, letting her lips stay pressed longer this time. Jodie pushed a pillow under Rebecca’s head. The blonde’s head fell back against it, her eyes still closed. Rebecca’s pink tongue darted out and traveled over her mouth, tasting the rum.

  “You like that, huh?” Jodie said. She trickled a little rum down her stomach, letting it run past her navel and down to her pussy. It dripped onto Rebecca’s chin.

  Rebecca opened her eyes. She saw Jodie’s face framed by her large breasts and the Bacardi bottle. Without being asked, the blonde lifted her mouth again and began licking the rum between Jodie’s legs.

  “That’s right,” Jodie said softly. She poured a little more. The sheets were getting soaked. Jodie suddenly remembered Rebecca asking what she would have to do, and telling the cheerleader captain that she’d only need to sit back and enjoy the ride. Oh well, she seems like she’s enjoying herself, Jodie thought saucily.

  Rebecca’s eyes remained closed as she licked and sucked Jodie’s aching pussy. The blonde girl reached behind and tucked the pillow in firmly behind her head. Jodie helped. Rebecca’s tongue pushed inside Jodie, finding her clitoris. She licked and sucked harder, raking her fingernails down Jodie’s butt. Jodie gasped. She touched Rebecca’s face tenderly. “Oh God,” she said despite herself. “Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”

  Rebecca’s eyes opened and Jodie thought she detected a smug grin. Then the eyes closed again and Rebecca kept eating Jodie with a level of assurance that astonished her. Fucking bitch! Jodie thought as her body began to involuntarily tremble. She just has to prove that she can do everything perfectly. Queen Rebecca, ruler of all she surveys…

  The bottle was empty; Jodie tossed it aside. It hit the bedside lamp. Crash! Something broke. Jodie didn’t care. Neither, apparently, did Rebecca, who kept eating Jodie without missing a beat. Jodie tried to keep her orgasm at bay and prolong the pleasure.

  But her body overruled her. She came, in multiples: “Ohhh… Ohhh… Ohhh…” Then she felt a flash of intense heat ripple all over her skin, something she had never felt before. Jodie gasped, dismounted Rebecca’s face, and tumbled away. She rolled to a stop near the edge of the bed.

  When Jodie had finally recovered, she opened her eyes. Rebecca was smirking at her. “You like that, huh?” the blonde said.

  Jodie was filled with a sudden overpowering urge to just fuck her, fuck her silly, fuck her until she begged for mercy. Fuck that Heathers cockiness right out of her. Unfortunately, Jodie’s strap-on was at home. Well, she would just have to improvise.

  Jodie moved down between Rebecca’s legs, roughly throwing the cheerleader captain’s knee up. Rebecca’s eyes widened. Jodie couldn’t resist giving Rebecca’s pussy a few good long licks before sliding two fingers into her. She watched the fingers disappear deep into the blonde bush. Rebecca’s body tightened.

  Jodie looked up at her face. “I think you’ve been sassy. And this is what happens to sassy girls.” Jodie began moving her fingers in and out fast, slipping easily with all of the juices that Rebecca had created. Rebecca’s breathing grew deeper.

  “But…” the blonde began.

  “Shush,” Jodie commanded.

  Rebecca obeyed, turning her head to the side and closing her eyes. She bit her fist.

  Jodie kept up a continuous, steady rhythm, gradually using a little more force to make Rebecca’s body shake. The slapping sounds grew louder and louder. Jodie looked down. She just had to lick it some more. Keeping her rhythm, Jodie’s mouth closed over Rebecca’s pussy while somehow keeping her fingers moving in and out, in and out.

  Rebecca began wailing. It was the sign. The orgasm hit her. Jodie pulled her mouth away and finger-fucked her hard, making Rebecca’s boobs bounce and jiggle wildly.

  Suddenly, Rebecca sat up with a lurch—then fell back down again. Motionless.

  Jodie withdrew her fingers. Puzzled, she crawled up to take a close look at Rebecca’s flushed face. The girl’s mouth was open, her eyes closed. She had passed out. Wild!

  Jodie wondered if she should wake her up. There was so, so much more that she wanted to do with Rebecca. But she decided to let the cheerleader captain sleep a few minutes. She had had a hard night. Jodie retrieved the top sheet that had gotten wadded up at the foot of the bed and pulled it over the two of them. She closed her eyes.

  * * *

  “What the hell is going on!”

  Jodie and Rebecca woke up simultaneously. They had been cuddled in each other’s arms under the sheet. Sunlight blazed through the room’s window. They had slept through the night and into the morning.

  Before them stood a very angry middle-aged couple. The man, dressed in a suit, waved his arms. “Where is Michael!”

  Jodie realized that this must be Michael Velacruz’s parents, the owners of the home. Jodie struggled to sit up, raising the sheet with her. “Uh. I don’t know. Sorry.”

  “This house is a disaster!” Mrs. Velacruz screeched, waving her arms also. A small handbag nearly flew off her wrist. “Who are you? I demand to know who you are!”

  Jodie looked at Rebecca. Rebecca was wide-eyed in shock. Jodie turned back to the angry parents. “I’m Molly,” Jodie said. “And this is my friend Annette. We’re exchange students from Canada. I’m really sorry about all the damage…” She looked around. Stains, broken glass, wrecked lamps, an overpowering smell of rum and pussy—no wonder the Velacruzes were freaking out. If the rest of the house was anything like this, Michael was going to get the firing squad.

  The Velacruzes kept staring bug-eyed at the girls. “Like,” Jodie finally continued, “we’re actually staying with a family up the street. And we just happened to be walking by last night, and we heard the music, and so we sort of thought we’d check it out… I’m sorry, we didn’t even meet your son. I really don’t know where he is.”

  “What else has happened in this house?” Mr. Velacruz thundered.

  His wife’s hand flew up to her neck. “My jewelry!” she gasped. The woman ran out of the room. Her husband hurried after her.

  Jodie turned to Rebecca. “Quick!” she hissed. “Watch out for broken glass.” Jodie hopped out of bed, raced into the bathroom, and began pulling on her clothes. Rebecca followed her lead.

  * * *

  Jodie stepped over bottles, cups, and other party detritus strewn across the Velacruzes’ front lawn. Hurrying toward the street, she heard a voice behind her: “Hey!”

  She stopped and turned. Rebecca caught up to her, smiling. “So that’s how you operate? Love ‘em and leave ‘em?”

  Jodie grinned back. “Well, I do have a reputation to uphold.”

  Rebecca laughed. Jodie marveled that, disheveled as she was, Rebecca still looked like she belonged on a magazine cover. Jodie felt suddenly, ridiculously shy.

  Rebecca became serious. “Hey. I just
wanted to say… Thanks for coming up with that story.” She nodded at the second floor of the house behind them. “I appreciate it. Really.”

  Jodie shrugged, trying to act cool. “Sure.”

  “No, you don’t understand.” Rebecca exhaled. “My parents know the Velacruzes. Really well, actually. They serve on boards together, they play golf together, they’ve even talked about going into business together. I myself never met them before, thank God, not before today anyway. My parents and I move in different circles.” She stared at the house.

  After a long pause, Rebecca continued: “If the Velacruzes ever told my dad and my mom that I… Well. I don’t even want to think about it.” The blonde looked at Jodie. A strange light was in Rebecca’s eyes. “You know, you can spend your entire life trying to measure up to something, and one day you realize: you never will.” She glanced at the house again. “I don’t know. Maybe it would have been better if I’d told the Velacruzes I was Rebecca Drysdale.”

  Jodie considered her. For the first time, she saw Rebecca as a victim—a victim of impossible expectations. Jodie smiled, trying to lighten the mood. She pointed. “There’s the door.”

  Rebecca laughed once more. “Yeah, well. Maybe next time.”

  A long, awkward pause followed. Jodie didn’t really want to go. And neither, apparently, did Rebecca.

  “Can I at least give you a lift?” Rebecca finally said.

  “I’ve got a car.” Jodie thumbed in the direction she had been walking. “I’m parked down the street.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  After a beat, Jodie added: “But I actually was going to get some breakfast. There’s a diner near here that I like. It’s cheap, too.”

  “Well, can I buy you breakfast?”

  “Yeah, if you want. Thanks.” Jodie described where the place was.

  “Okay,” Rebecca said. “I’ll try to follow you, but if I get lost, I’ll just meet you there.”

  “Cool. I’ll stop right in front of the house here, until I see your car.”

  “If the police pull up, I won’t hold you to it.”

  Jodie smiled. She was starting to like Rebecca Drysdale. Who knew?

  “What are you thinking?” Rebecca asked.

  “I’m thinking that I like you.”

  “Maybe I like you, too.”

  “Cool.”

  “Very.”

  “I’m going to go get my car now.”

  “Okay. See you soon.”

  They parted, passing over the green grass in the sunshine, each looking down and smiling, wondering at life’s surprises.

  The End

  Flight

  “May I offer you a beverage?”

  The professional woman looked up from her first class seat. She was in her early thirties, dressed in a starched white button-down shirt with a knee-length charcoal skirt. The clothes almost but not quite concealed her hourglass figure. Her shoulder-length brown hair was perfectly coiffed and parted down the middle in a conservative cut. Her grey-blue eyes peered up at the flight attendant with a customary intensity.

  “I’m sorry,” the woman said, “but did you ask if I wanted a drink?”

  “Yep.” The flight attendant smiled down at her, her short blonde hair bouncing jauntily as she nodded. Her breasts were small, her physique slim. Her navy-blue flight uniform twisted as she leaned against the bulkhead to allow gloomy-faced passengers rolling their carry-on bags to inch through first class en route to their business and coach seats.

  The professional woman smiled uncertainly. “Well, we haven’t taken off yet. We haven’t even finished boarding. I think it’s against the rules.”

  “First-class passengers get special privileges.”

  “I’d like a drink,” piped a fat man across the aisle.

  “Would you care for something?” the flight attendant asked the woman, ignoring him.

  “I don’t think you should be offering passengers drinks, yet,” the woman said. Her smiled stayed frozen on her face. “I believe it’s against regulations.”

  “Oh, really?” The blonde folded her arms. A harassed-looking mother stomped by with her yelling kids, slightly jostling the flight attendant. The blonde’s blue-pantyhose-clad legs brushed the professional woman’s.

  The professional woman inched away. “Yes, I think so,” she replied, trying not to look down at her legs. “I’ve read the new FAA guidelines for service staff on passenger airlines.”

  The flight attendant smirked. “My, you’re very well-read.” Her blue eyes danced behind rimless stainless-steel glasses. She shook her head, making her silver earrings glitter in the cabin’s overhead lights. “I guess you know my job better than I do.”

  “I’m afraid we both know I’m right. You shouldn’t be offering drinks before wheels-up.”

  “Can I get a whiskey, please?” asked the fat man in an annoyed tone.

  The flight attendant turned to him. “I’m sorry, sir,” she said. “I’ve been informed that I might get fired if I try to be nice.” She straightened and sashayed past them down the aisle toward the crew galley at the middle of the plane.

  The fat man glared at the professional woman.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, reddening. “It’s the rules. I—”

  The man turned his back to her, pushing his head into his seat with an angry thump.

  Other first-class passengers stared at her. After a moment, she withdrew an iPad from a bag under her seat.

  “Welcome to American Airlines flight 2236 to Macau, China,” announced a bored voice overhead. “We expect to be underway shortly. Our flight should take approximately twenty-two hours, with a stop in Los Angeles. Weather conditions here in Washington D.C. will delay us a couple of hours in addition to that…”

  The professional woman heard groans all around her. She looked through a window to the raging blizzard outside. Then she turned her eyes back to the iPad. She didn’t raise her head again.

  After the plane was finally airborne, the blonde flight attendant returned behind a beverage cart. She took the drink order of the professional woman’s neighbor, a Chinese man in a pinstriped suit. The professional woman did not look up, keeping her face bent to her iPad. After handing the man a Coke, the flight attendant tapped the woman’s arm softly. Startled, the professional woman looked up, raising a hand. The flight attendant placed a clear plastic cup of amber liquid in it.

  “This is some very expensive Patrón tequila,” the flight attendant said, grinning. Then she whispered: “On the house.”

  The woman stared icily. “I did not order anything.”

  Still smiling, the flight attendant lowered her lips to whisper in the woman’s ear, almost touching: “It’s to kill the bug… up your ASS.”

  The flight attendant rose and pushed her cart a few feet. She asked the people in the next row if they would like a drink. The professional woman’s head remained turned toward the stewardess. The blonde shimmied her butt saucily as she dug ice with a scoop.

  Hours later, over the Midwest, the flight attendant walked back up the first class aisle. Most of the passengers slept. The professional woman’s overhead light, however, was on. She was still reading her iPad.

  The flight attendant leaned against the bulkhead in front of the woman. After a long pause, the woman looked up. The flight attendant smiled down.

  “May I take that?” she asked. She pointed at the empty plastic cup.

  “Sure,” the woman said. The flight attendant bent at the waist and lifted the cup and napkin from the woman’s tray table with a graceful movement.

  “I’m Ricarda,” the flight attendant said.

  “Margaret,” the woman said.

  They shook hands.

  “Ricarda. That’s an unusual name,” Margaret said.

  “My dad wanted a boy.”

  “I’m sorry,” Margaret stuttered, “I didn’t mean…”

  “It’s all right,” the flight attendant replied. “I get it all the time.”

&nbs
p; “It’s a nice name,” Margaret said after a strained silence.

  “Thanks.” Ricarda smoothed the front of her vest uniform, brushing the gold wings pinned to her chest.

  “I’m sorry I was bitchy, earlier,” Margaret said.

  “That’s okay.”

  “It’s just been a long day, and I have this impossible case to work on.” Margaret raised her iPad with a staggered motion, as if it was nearly too heavy to lift.

  “Would you like me to leave you alone?”

  Margaret paused before answering. “No. I think if I keep reading these briefs, I’ll go insane, and that won’t help the firm or my client. It’ll be nice to have a break.” She nodded, making her brown hair brush her shoulders.

  The flight attendant smiled and brushed her own blonde hair over an ear. “Well, maybe I’ll come and bug you now and then when I’m free. It’s a long flight.”

  “That’s for sure.”

  “Have you been to Macau before?”

  “Oh yeah,” Margaret replied. “Lots of times. But I’ve never taken the redeye.”

  The flight attendant laughed. “I know. This is my route once a week, but I never saw you before. I would have remembered.” She smiled again. “Okay, Margaret. We’re getting close to L.A. so I gotta go, but I’ll say hi later, maybe.”

  “Cool,” Margaret said in the awkward manner of someone who does not make friends easily.

  Ricarda left. Margaret tried reading briefs on her iPad, but after a few minutes put the device away. She stared out the window.

  After refueling and exchanging passengers in Los Angeles, the plane took off again and settled into a comfortable slipstream high above the Pacific Ocean.

  Ricarda arrived with meal service.

  “Hey,” Margaret said, smiling. She lowered her tray table.

  “Hey,” Ricarda said, smiling back. “So, what’s your pleasure, lobster or filet?”