Jerry Milner - The lady plays doctor

What she found in the box was a beautiful white negligee. It was all lacy and frilly and diaphanous, of a kind that she would never in a million years purchase for herself. At first she thought it was ludicrous, a typically ridiculous gift from a lusting lesbian. But as she held it up in front of her before the mirror, she couldn't help but admire its feminine beauty. For all its lace and sheerness, it was rather modestly cut. It was obviously expensive, and probably carefully chosen. It would be a shame not to at least try it on.

The negligee fit her to perfection. It had a high princess waistline that was lightly elasticized and fit up under her breasts very becomingly. The neckline swooped down rather low in a v-shape and showed an appreciable amount of the swells of her little round tits, but it covered her nipples adequately unless she leaned too far forward. The bodice was pleated and made her breasts look a bit fuller than they actually were. It was just sheer enough to show the pinkness of her nipples through the pleated white nylon. It was sleeveless and very nearly backless. The negligee's skirt just brushed Joyce's bare toes. It was slit up the front to well above her knees and the edges of the slit were lace-trimmed, but they clung together nicely and only showed her dimpled knee when she walked or purposely bent her leg. All in all, it was truly a lovely garment. She looked quite chaste and maidenly in it, especially with her golden hair brushed out into shimmering waves about her demurely smiling face. The gauzy white nylon felt cool and smooth against her skin, and she felt comfortable and relaxed in the negligee. She decided to wear it for her entry back into the apartment, and she also decided to open the other package.

This was French perfume in a crystal-stoppered jar. It was obviously as expensive as the negligee, and its scent was supremely exotic. It was too exotic and too expensive for a woman of Joyce's simple tastes, and she knew she shouldn't accept it. But she'd already opened the bottle and she'd already tacitly accepted the other gift from the lesbian, and so she began to dab the sweet scent here and there about the warmest places on her body. At last, with the sweet perfume behind her ears, between her breasts and on her throat and on her loins, she squared her shoulders in the negligee and went to face Emily and Phil once again.

Darkness had fallen outside, and the apartment was dimly lit with candles. Though it was comfortably warm, Joyce felt as if she were in a haunted house as she walked carefully forward with the folds of her skirt held together at her thighs. The rich aroma of well-prepared food drew her onward despite what fears were creeping up her spine. She moved cautiously, feeling as if she were being lured into a trap, with the low rumblings of her stomach and the watering of her mouth drawing her on.

There was a low, circular table in the little living room of the apartment and it was here that the candles were burning. Three of them stood whitely in a silver candelabrum, illumining an array of fresh fruit, cheeses, and stemmed champagne glasses set out on a gleaming-white linen tablecloth. There by the light of the flickering candles Joyce saw Dr. Morgan and his receptionist seated in a love seat, holding hands and smiling warmly at her. Dr. Morgan was wearing – of all things – a tuxedo, complete with black tie, and Emily was attired with equal regality.

The buxom brunette had on a white blouse that had full billowing sleeves and a mannish collar. A silver chain was around her waist, and she was wearing a floor-length skirt of black velvet that was slit up the front to show her gleaming nylon knees and her black patent leather high-heeled pumps. Her hair was piled high on her head and rhinestone earrings dangled from her ears and silver bracelets jangled from her wrists as she rose to greet Joyce. Her face as heavily but perfectly made up, and the candlelight effectively softened any masculine lines in it. When she came close to kiss Joyce's cheek in a sisterly fashion, her perfume blended smoothly with the scent Joyce was wearing, hands confined Joyce's encountered the softness of Emily's breast as she pushed away from the woman. She wanted food, not sex or even affection. A flashbulb went off, dazzling her. Many-hued lights flared before her eyes and she teetered back on her heels while they commented around her.

"She looked so beautiful in that gown that I had to get a picture of her, Miss Beresford."

"Do take some more, Philip, while you're serving us dinner. Come, Joyce. Sit down, dear. You must be as famished as I am."

The light from the flashbulb had temporarily taken away Joyce's equilibrium. She had to lean on the lesbian's arm for support. Dr. Morgan spoke her name, she looked up, and another rocket burst of white light struck her, completely blinding her.

"I don't want pictures of me like this," she said crossly.

"Of course you don't," said Emily at her side. "Philip, put that camera away and open the champagne."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, in subservient tones.

Joyce was helped into a chair, completely confused. The light from the candles was vague before her widely blinking eyes. She felt Emily Beresford sitting beside her, and she edged away from her. The big woman did not follow her, but she did clasp her hand and intertwine their fingers. Joyce pulled her hand away and said, "I just want a bite to eat, and then I'm going to bed."

"Of course, dear," said the woman at her side, patting her leg affectionately. "My butler, Philip, will serve us dinner, and then it's off to bed for you."

It was another of their games. She wasn't dreaming this. Those two, Philip Morgan and Emily Beresford, had withdrawn themselves and their hyper-sexuality from the rest of the town for so long that they now engaged in any number of fantasies. Their after-hours lives were a series of play-acting, and now Joyce was a part of it. They were undoubtedly psychotic. Now that she understood them, it was a tremendous opportunity for Joyce to observe psychosis in action. They couldn't harm her. They'd already done that. Understanding them, she could move cautiously about the edges of their current real-life fantasy and learn a great deal about the warped human mind. Her rationality and her calmness were her defenses while she explored the behavior patterns and the motives of the male and female sexual degenerates. It was a fascinating opportunity for her, almost as fascinating as the food on the table and the aromas of more wafting in from the kitchen.

As a champagne glass was filled for her on the table, she saw that Dr. Morgan had completely entered into the role of butler. He had that somber, completely impersonal expression of the servant on his handsome face as he poured the sparkling wine. She wasn't quite sure what role Emily had taken other than mistress of the household, but that would surely develop in time.

The food was delicious, the wine refreshing. Dr. Morgan took a few more flash pictures of them as they nibbled and sipped by candlelight, two sophisticated ladies enjoying a late supper presented to them by a manservant. He said nothing beyond the words of the servant. Emily led the way into a lively conversation on a variety of subjects. Cautiously relaxed, Joyce could make the woman laugh easily with her witty remarks. Joyce still had no true knowledge of the motives of the pair or the complete role Emily was playing, but she was relaxed with the food and wine and confident this knowledge would come.

Emily slipped her arm about Joyce's shoulders and said, "Now you enjoy dinner, dear?"

"Dinner? It was more of a feast than a dinner." "Yes." Emily's large eyes, aglow with candlelight, gazed deeply into Joyce's. "A feast. A nuptial feast for your wedding night, my dear."