Night With Mommy

by Sofia Connor

  All too clearly. Clarissa's head swam with panic at the notion. It would be her social ruin. Clementine was staring up at her placidly, observing her reaction. Behind his mask she was sure Kong held similar fascination. "God, you bastard. I thought you liked me!"

  "I didn't quite catch that, Clarissa ..."

  Pretentions all crumbled, she mumbled a bitter and defeated "Yes".

  "Good. Then wash. There's spunk all over your face and you need to look pristine. To start with at any rate. Clementine, will that dress do?"

  "Absolutely. It clings to her figure so beautifully. God, she'll be perfect."

  Panic returned to Clarissa triple-fold. "Perfect? Perfect for what? Gavin, what the hell's going on?"

  Gavin's hard face resolved into a smile. He radiated such wicked delight that her knees buckled and she had to grip the frame. Never had evil been so immaculately groomed and debonair. So intent on getting its way.

  "Clarissa, my dear, you don't think I went to all this trouble just so I could get you to work on time? There'll be another full house very shortly and you're going to give them a performance to remember. Didn't I tell you? It's amateur night."

  * * * *

  Clarissa stood in shadow, clutching at her dress's tight fabric, bare feet scrunched against the hard-wood floor. From the other side of the dividing wall she could hear music and the babble of an assembling audience.

  Two hours prior she'd been seated out there herself, anticipating a voyeuristic treat. Now voyeur would become object of erotic scrutiny. She clutched the rim of the Perspex bath, making soapy water slosh about within. The container resembled a giant dessert bowl, and guess who'd be served up ... Harry the stage manager had looked her over as he ran the tub, no doubt imagining the beauty soon to occupy it.

  She tried to slow her breathing, quell the fluttering in her stomach. Clarissa was no stranger to stage nerves. As Hippolyta in her sixth-form college's production of A Midsummer Night's Dream, she'd ended up wringing her hands in the wings. Only then she hadn't been expected to strip butt-naked in front of the ranks of parents and fellow-students.

  "But anyone could be out there," she'd remonstrated to Gavin.

  "That's a gamble you'll have to take." He'd eyed her, quietly smug, as her fists clenched. Every time she made for the door her limbs had locked in dread of his threat.

  In the auditorium music died and lights dropped; she saw the snap-fade through the crack either side of the stage's dividing wall. God ... Fuck ... This was it. Her big unrehearsed performance. She couldn't do it. She'd freeze in the lights, be shamed and incur Gavin's terrible penalty. He'd start sneaking out the pornographic snaps, use all her painstakingly networked connections against her. Whispers would multiply and her place in London society would be compromised utterly.

  God help me ...

  "All set for a stunning debut?" A whisper, devilish not divine, made her body start. So the mini-receiver in her ear was working perfectly. She had an image of Gavin serene with his discreet radio mike awaiting her grand entrance. "It's a full house, Clarissa," his voice said, "but I'll guide you through the whole thing. Follow every instruction to the letter and you'll be a sensation. And don't worry?you won't be alone out there for long."

  God, she knew it. Before she could ruminate more on her fate, its cogs and those of the stage mechanics meshed into operation. The great disc began its smooth one-eighty rotation, Clarissa's heart hammering as she and the set glided about. Smoky jazz and darkness met her arrival?the swan-like maiden, fair hair wrapped in a chignon, about to disrobe at bath-time.

  "Stand tall, girl. Don't flinch." Gavin's disembodied voice galvanized her before stage-level lights blinked on, blinding her in their bluish glare. Her vision adjusted, but there was nothing to see beyond the stage more than vague shapes. Her audience was shrouded in darkness, but they could sure as hell see her.

  One of them continued muttering instructions. "Reach down and test the water." The words possessed her before fear could do so. She bent to the tub and scooped beneath a surface of extravagant bubbles. Warm and inviting like a real bath-night. "All alone and secret in your room. You can't wait for that water to envelope your naked body. So strip. Slowly."

  Clarissa's hands crept up her bosom and crossed to pluck the straps of her dress away from her shoulders.

  "That's right, tease them. Hold the moment. Now, pull it right down." She tugged the clinging fabric to her waist, cleavage displayed within her delicate white-lace bra. Gavin's instructions compelled her onward; the skirt of the dress she gripped by its hem, drawing it upwards into a band around her middle, revealing her thong-clad loins. Then she peeled it down over thighs and legs in a smooth glide and stepped out, drawing it aside daintily with her toe.

  Long and lissom in her tiniest under-garments. Gazes burning on her milky skin. And no respite from his commands.

  "Now the brassiere. Simple, innocent. No fuss."

  She unsnapped at the back, shrugged the straps off her shoulders. Mortification paused her, that and the realisation of how wet she was. Of how some kinked part of her was getting off on stripping in public. Laying herself bare for all those staring eyes. The brassiere tumbled from her breasts. Pretty peaches all on show. Nipples upturned and hard in the blazing light. Cheers vying with the music as her fingers twitched at her panty-thong.

  "Take them off. Ass out and knickers off, girl. Nice and slow." She bent, tugged and drew the thong downwards. "That's it. Thrust. Peel that thong from your bum-crack. Show us all you've got."

  Gavin, speaking for every ogling spectator as she exposed her ass completely, and her puffy cunt-lips too. The sophisticated Blue Nile audience gave vent to pure lust, wolf-whistling and calling out male and female alike, as she thrust her bared bottom and wriggled free of all clothing.

  "Clarissa Beaumont buck-naked on stage. Quite a fucking sight. Now get in the bath and soap that up-market ass."

  Bloody, bloody bastard! Making it worse with every word he spoke?deepening her shame, making her wetter and more swollen, evil fuck!

  Warm water enveloped and caressed her thighs as she stepped into the bowl. She wanted to lie down, provide what degree of obscurity the suds allowed in the transparent tub. Her instructor did not allow it.

  "Kneel in the water. Use the wash-rose. Give everyone a good view." The rose was floating in the suds and she picked it up, dabbing at herself. "Use it properly," the smooth voice urged. "Luxuriate." She succumbed to her body's sluttier urgings?it was easier that way?thrusting out her tits and spreading bubbles over them, squeezing the rose to her chest so that soapy water rivered to her stomach. Laving shoulders and the nape of her neck till water rolled down her breasts and back, turning her slippery all over. Eyes closed, giving herself up to sensuality.

  Then the inevitable instruction: "Lie back. Wash everywhere."

  The audience's view into the bowl was too direct for the water to afford her any modesty, so she lay across the tub, stretching out her beautiful body and drawing the wash-rose down to her exposed crotch. That much she could cover herself. The gauzy folds pressed to her wet labia and she writhed under the touch. So sweet, so wrong. She was crushing the rose to her clitoris, massaging in circles before she realised how much it excited her.

  "Look at you, Clarissa, starting to enjoy." Goddamn, the bastard was right. She couldn't help herself.

  She was almost relaxing into her public masturbation when an intruder entered stage right. A diminutive figure shining a torch crept stealthily past the tub, then reared up, suited in black to her stockinged head. A sexy cat-burglar stealing in to surprise a girl in the middle of her ablutions. Clementine ripped off the stocking-mask with a flourish and whipped her hair three-sixty like a blond propeller-blade. The crowd cheered her sexy entrance and she responded with sinuous dance moves that brought her leering over the bath, gripping the rim. She smiled as she leaned low, before her mouth took possession of Clarissa's, tongue slithering inside. The staged scenario possessed the upper-cla
ss girl too and she gave herself up to seduction, kissing in return, intoxicated by the rhythm of the blonde's tender mouth on hers, that silky stroking tongue.

  Clementine pressed the torch into her hand as she kissed and whispered into the ear unoccupied by Gavin's voice. "Shine it on me."

  She pushed away from the bath. Clarissa held the torch where it had been placed, thrusting from her loins like a great rubber phallus. Its beam stayed on Clementine, who had recommenced her lusty hip-swaying. She tore a Velcro-ed panel from her bodice revealing her firm, full tits, her striptease as brazen as Clarissa's had been tentative. The remainder of the top she peeled fluidly from her upper body, before swivelling around and pushing her rear over the bath's edge. Her skin-tight leggings had fastenings down both sides; Clarissa's torch lit it all up as she unzipped down each leg, waist to heel, black spandex dropping away from taut thighs and firm round bottom.

  "Use the torch. Go on, be creative." Filthy bastard... He was adoring this. What could she do but comply? Besides, since he had her in this bind, was she going to look a total amateur? She splashed back onto her knees, gripping her rubber cock-substitute. Clementine's back was arched and her legs spread, enough space between her crotch and the tub's rim to facilitate insertion. Clarissa plunged the smooth shaft through the gap and worked it back and forth. There was a lewd fascination in the way Clementine's cunt-folds slithered against it. She pistoned harder, the blonde leaning into the action to ride the stick, as in some bizarre contest between bathing belle and home-invader. It was fixating, the motion of thrusting ass-cheeks and squish of lips against the improvised dildo. Clarissa had not banked on exploring her bi-curiosity in quite this way.

  Her reverie was interrupted by a tug on the torch by Clementine, one which pulled her fist hard to the dancer's cheeks. The blonde's other hand shot in reverse and seized the back of Clarissa's head. The newbie performer gasped as torch was wrenched from her grasp and Clementine's spread crotch pressed into her face.

  "Go on. Give the pretty burglar what she wants."

  Clarissa balked an instant, then her tongue protruded and she sampled the tang of Clementine's glistening folds. Weird and exotic?like sweet pulpy fruit. Her first taste of another girl.

  "Don't be shy, Clarissa. Get acquainted."

  Damn him! Clementine clutched hard, made the bath-girl her cunt-licking bitch. Clarissa, along with her stage character, was clean out of options, so she took the only one available?squirm her tongue through Clementine's slit and plunge into that hot hole. Girl-musk in her nose and on her taste-buds. Saxophone blare and audience yells?as she pressed her face into that slithering gash and tongue-fucked hard. The bucking of Clementine's body surged through her as the blonde rode her face.

  "Now we've got a show. And the crowd fucking love it."

  Clementine released her grip and Clarissa fell back into the water, reeling from intimacy with the other girl's pussy. The professional performer turned around wielding the torch and for a scary moment Clarissa thought she was going to get fucked with the hard-rubber tube. Clementine set it aside, however, and advanced over the bowl's rim, mischief on her face. Clarissa gasped to have the blonde's naked form climb onto hers, big-nippled orbs skating over her slick thighs and stomach. Her breath was stolen completely as Clementine tongued her nipples in turn, their eyes locking as she stroked the areolae. The buxom vixen had her gripped in some erotic enchantment, for she found herself locked mouth and limbs with the girl in a soapy embrace. Before hundreds of gazes they were curling tongues together, Clementine's breasts squishing against hers. And when that hand scurried between her thighs, when the finger thrust, she ceased to care who the hell was watching.

  "Christ, my work here is done." The voice laughed softly in her ear as sensation rippled outward through her flesh from her finger-fucked erotic centre. No more words were received or required, for the experience consumed her. Two nude girls, squirming and thrashing in a tub of warm bubbles, curvy youngster leading the novice in a filthy lesbian improvisation.

  It would come to Clarissa in flashes, memories to make her shudder and cream. That initial interlude?her hands full with Clementine's slippery tits, getting her show-partner's body as shiny with soap as hers, as the blonde's finger persisted in its frigging. Then the wriggling manoeuvre by which Clementine's legs ended up wrapped around her upper thigh, both girls thrusting rhythmically together so that one's clitoris mashed that of the other. Gripping the rim of the bath with both hands, grinding steadily where their bodies forked, building up sweet friction. Clementine's gaze locked into hers, their connection in that moment everything in the world.

  She craved orgasm and for the blonde to come with her, but Clementine slid back and flipped like a dolphin; in an instant she had Clarissa's legs stretched to the ceiling in an elegant scissors, and was going down on her. Christ, another girl's mouth on her clit?this would push her to insanity. That pointy feminine tongue flicked exquisitely on her nub, naughty fingers delving, her theatrical lover licking and frigging till her head rolled back and she moaned like a whore. Shit, this was as wonderful in its way as taking cock.

  Climax was denied again as her partner worked another fleet turnabout, ending reversed and on top, spread thighs gripping Clarissa's head, cunt thrust in her face. This time Clarissa was equal to the task; as Clementine braced against the rim and thrust back to hump her face, the society girl tongued her partner lustily, reaching beneath Clementine's wet body to fondle and squeeze her suspended tits. She wanted to make the hot devious slut come in her face?to prove herself worthy of this outrageously sexy trial. Together they rocked the bowl till water slopped over the edge.

  Clementine got the better of her. Climbing crab-like about the tub she crouched above Clarissa, kissing and stroking her into submission, eyes alight with passion, hair trailing in the water. "You on top." They reversed positions and Clarissa made for her mouth, but Clementine pulled her close to speak in her ear. "Stand outside the bowl and kiss me." Clarissa climbed out, meek and dripping. She only realised when stretched over the edge, lain across Clementine and mouth-to-mouth, what was going on. She was backed onto the audience, thighs split in a wide V, as her partner reached under and teased her clit. Their mouths remained locked, Clementine's arm embracing her neck as those fingers went strumming.

  Clarissa's sense of exhibitionism magnified. She was bent over as her lover rubbed her to frenzy?ass, vulva, interior folds all on display. The realisation only heightened her excitement. She peaked in the knowledge that her clenching rump was watched by all. Including the shitheel whose voice oozed in her ear as she came.

  "Clarissa, you filthy bitch. This is fucking outstanding."

  The words stayed in her head as her body spasmed, cunt squirting hard all over the exterior of the bowl. He had put her here and it felt so good she couldn't even hate him.

  The stage went to black, music blaring, audience rowdy with appreciation. As the stage-motion wheeled them backstage, Clementine continued to kiss. Limp in the aftermath of orgasm, Clarissa let her. She liked that it was more than a show for the horny blonde.

  "God, that was amazing." Clementine's words in her ear sounded heartfelt. "So hot. Giselle's good, but?well?it's a job for her. I thought it mightn't work, but you were so spontaneous, so much fun. Come on, get back in the bowl with me."

  Clarissa climbed in giddily, accepting the pretty blonde's embrace like a teenager with a crush. They huddled in lukewarm water, as another mechanism operated, carrying the shallow platform on which the bath was based in a new direction.

  "Where are we going? To dry off?"

  Clementine giggled. "Not yet, babe. Didn't your date tell you? He expects a post-performance booty-call."

  Damn him to hell. Still it gratified Clarissa, as the lounge doors parted and they slid inside, that the bastard wanted to fuck her. Her stage-performance would have him bursting out of his trousers. For all her anger she had a craving for cock greater than she could remember in her life. The doors closed be
hind them and she looked to the other entrance, the one where she and Gavin had originally entered. No sign yet. The room, aside from the replacement of Kong's frame with the bowl, was as she had left it. Ambient light and casually scattered soft-furnishings.

  "He'll be here in a moment." Clementine nuzzled close. "Come on, babe, let's give him something nice to look at." Their mouths sealed and they kissed deep, tongues stroking lazily. It occurred to Clarissa that she'd have to share the bastard Gavin with her new female lover and jealousy stabbed even as her palm closed around the Clementine's full breast.

  "Angels in a bath-tub. Now there's a sight for a sore cock."

  Clarissa looked, glowering and needy, to the source of the hated voice. Her jaw fell. Gavin had not entered alone; his words had been to the young guy accompanying him.

  "Fuck, you're not joking!" The newcomer was grinning broadly at the soaped-up duo. He was statuesque within his tux, almost Gavin's height. His dark hair was cropped short, hard-hewn jawline somehow familiar. He looked over Clarissa's sudsy body, excited yet restrained, however urgent the bulge in his trousers. "God, you look even hotter than in the society magazines. That was one hell of a performance. I'm so stiff I can hardly walk."

  Clementine laughed, hands roaming over Clarissa's trembling flesh. "Well what are you waiting for, silly? Get that big stiffy in here and put it to use on your fantasy girl."

  "You heard her, Josh," Gavin said. "She's your birthday present, so enjoy."

  Birthday present? Clarissa stared at Gavin, anger surging. She'd been brought in here as a sex-gift for some random?albeit undeniably hot?boy? He was already ripping off his bow-tie, she saw, unfastening his shirt, a young man on a mission. She made to speak, but Gavin's cool expression stopped her. Tonight she was whatever he wanted her to be. Including a birthday whore for 'Josh'.