Roland Harding - Teen Queen

It was a climax like none Louise had ever known before. She wanted the bliss of it to last forever. Yet she wanted to yield to it much more than she wanted to receive from it. She arched into the woman who bestrode her so skillfully. She drew that sweet body, in some instinctive maternal rite, deep down upon her, till she felt she would flow, body and soul, deep inside Claudine.

She took and she gave. And all the while she cried tears of passion, murmuring her sweet endearments into the receptive ears of Claudine.

Claudine, for her part, was all sweet experience. She knew instinctively that the conquest was now complete. Louise had become a lesbian. Not that thus would render her love for men any the less strong. After all even she, Claudine, had never suffered in that respect. But from that moment onwards, Louise would never cease her search for some woman to love, as well as her men. Claudine knew it. The perverted cult of lesbos – had a new devotee.

And what a magnificent devotee she was, too, gloated Claudine. Her task, as initiator, was over. She had wooed and won a girl. And the realization of this enabled her so much the better to give, and receive, the mutual satisfaction of that vast thing upon which their cunts throbbed in such lustful zest.

And then it was over and, utterly exhausted, the two girls slid apart, each upon her side, locked still by the fearful, accommodating dildo that copulated them.

In the dawn light seeping through the room, they slept.

They slept as they lay, with the dildo reaching into both of them, gently sliding away and backwards as the two girls, fragrant with female sex, breathed steadily in their sleep.

For an entire week, Louise found herself caught up increasingly in her work. The firm she represented had begun, with the seasonal influx of visitors to the south of France, a vast promotion of its cosmetics. Cannes, Monaco, Nice, Juan-les-Pins-Louise had to be everywhere at once supervising the project.

Finally, the stage was set. The rich, the spoiled, the pampered could stream in from all over the world, and the solid weight of advertising would assail them on every hand. For Louise, it represented a triumph of her efficiency and uncanny ability at organization.

Wearily, one evening, she drove from her office to her hotel, calling mechanically at the desk for her key and mail.

She noted with pleasure that among the letters was one from Hector. It gave her a momentary lift as she went up to her room.

Inside her room there was a further surprise. A magnificent bouquet of flowers was beautifully arranged, on a low center table. Against the vase was propped a note.

"For so long now, not a word from you," it read. "Would you leave a call for early tea, tomorrow? I have something to tell you. Meanwhile… these flowers – so that you, next to them, might contrive to make them less beautiful. Andrew."

Louise smiled at the compliment.

"Dear Andrew," she mused. Then she drew off her hat, her gloves, and poured a drink, before settling down to read the letter from her husband.

His letter told of complications, of tardy communications with South America, and of the certainty that he might have to delay his return to Nice by at least a fortnight, and probably by even a month. There was genuine disappointment in it and her sympathy went out to Hector. She knew that diplomacy was now his only weapon in concluding the deal that would bring him wealth. And she knew that, in that diplomacy, patience would constitute a major factor.

"Ah, well," she sighed wearily, ringing for dinner. After a light meal and a bath, she remembered Andrew's request and telephoned down for early tea next morning, then went to bed.

She awoke completely refreshed a quarter-hour before her morning tea was due to be served. A trip to the bathroom, a comb through her hair to discipline it, and she was back in bed waiting, when Andrew's knock sounded.

Already, in the quarter-hour she had been awake, she had conditioned herself to accept any sexual advances Andrew might make, in spite of the early hour. Poor thing, she thought, I've been so busy. If he's been waiting for me for so long, why should I not submit, if only for his sake?

But Andrew entered, suave and efficient, and set her tea things upon a table which he drew up to the bedside. Outside, the day gave promise of being warm and bright.

"Thank yon very much for the flowers," she said. "And for the sweet note, it was thoughtful of you, Andrew darling. I was so tired, last nightstand they gave me such pleasure just when I had most need of it."

"It was nothing. Poor girl, so busy? And I've missed yon for so long, almost a fortnight now."

"But that's over now, Andrew. From now on, I can take more time off. This afternoon, for a start, how about a swim?"

"That'd be lovely. But Louise, I've even better news. I saw Imbert here last Sunday and told him I might need a week's leave to go to London. He understands, and said it could be arranged."

"But, Andrew, London?"

"Oh, it doesn't have to be London. Imbert knows I have things to do while I'm here in Europe. If he thinks I want to go to London, what harm? I planned to be with you, though."

"Oh, that was sweet of you, Andrew."

"I thought that Hector, you, Claudine, well, that we'd take a yacht perhaps and take a week off. Go sailing, anywhere, just the four of us."

Louise laughed.

"A wonderful idea. But Hector won't be back for perhaps a month. I had a letter last night."

There was a moment's silence. Then Andrew snapped his fingers as a new idea dawned.

"Why don't we go to Greece then? Fly there."

"Now that's a thought! I don't know about Claudine, though. I haven't seen her for days now. But wouldn't she be all tied up in her new show at this time? Never mind, I'll ring her. When are you free?"

"Tomorrow, next day, any day you say, I can start. It sounds wonderful, Louise!"

"It sounds more wonderful, the more I think about it. In fact, it's perfect. Hector seemed very down in his letter. Perhaps the surprise of seeing us turn up in Athens might be good for him."

"Fine. You phone Claudine, and let me know some time today. I'll make arrangements to take, my leave at once. And I'll meet you on the beach this afternoon."

Louise found herself thinking, with growing appreciation, of this man who was so completely in command of himself in the menial role he had assumed. She had thought he might have left his note with the idea of resuming sexual relations with her in the morning. Instead he had been all friendliness and solicitude itself. Not even by a look had he betrayed any desires that might have beset him. And she thrilled, too, at the compliment implicit in his willingness to take a week off just so that he might be with her.

Left to himself Andrew, with his innate good breeding, would never have stepped out of bound. And Louise admired him more and more for his restraint and for his command over himself. All of this, coupled with an invitation to spend a week together and his generous offer to include Hector in any pleasure he planned, was a solid indication that he cared for her.

By the next evening, Louise and Andrew were in Athens. From the airport terminal, she telephoned Hector.

"He isn't there," she said, dismayed at the insistent ringing. "What'll we do now?"

Andrew hunched his shoulders expressively.

"Well, we did try. I've a plan, though. Let's play it this way. We'll check in at separate hotels, because Hector may prefer it that way. I think he will somehow. Then I'll call for you and we'll have dinner somewhere. From then on we'll float it out on the water somewhere and find out if it swims. That suit you?"

"Fine. Let's find a taxi, then."

And hours later, replete with the rich strange food of the Balkans, they sat back in comfort in the intimate little restaurant they'd discovered. The band suddenly broke into the rhythm of Western European dance music – and Andrew led Louise to the little kerchief-sized floor.