Sam Stone - Turned on wife

Kitten threw back her head and laughed. "Aren't you worried about coming down with eyestrain?"

Kitten finished her drink and handed him the empty glass. "All right, dirty old man, I'll keep the blinds open." She picked up her hip-huggers and struggled into them. "And I think I'd better grab a nap before I make Monique's party tonight."

"About that party," Max said as he watched her slip into the peppermint-striped blouse and button it into place over her tits. "You're supposed to dress up for it."

"Costumes and masks?"

Kitten sighed wearily. "I'll have to drive into the village and rent one."

"Any idea what kind of outfit you're going to pick?"

"Why?"

Max grinned. "I never miss one of Monique's parties, but I might be late getting back from the mainland, and I'd like to know what you'll be wearing so I can find you in the crowd."

Devils of amusement danced in Kitten's eyes. "If I can swing it, I think I'll go dressed as a bunny rabbit. How about yourself?"

"Well, considering what's happened today, I think I'll forget about wearing my pirate rig and come as a carrot instead."

"So you can get gobbled up by the lady rabbit?"

"Damn right!"

Three hours of sleep and one hot bath later found Kitten all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as she skidded her convertible to a stop in front of the Old Bottle Inn, and killed the engine. On the seat next to her, in a cardboard box, was the bunny costume she would wear to Monique Dubois' party this evening. She picked it up and slid out of the car with a generous display of thighs, locked it in the trunk. Then she turned and moved slowly towards the tavern entrance, only to hesitate near the door. A thoughtful expression crawled across her face. Should she or shouldn't she try for a truce with Cleo Brill? Could she go through with it? Would she be able to find the right words? Maybe she should simply say she was sorry and let it go at that.

"Stop sweating nails," she muttered to herself. "You don't have to go inside, you know. Coming here to make peace with Cleo was your idea, not hers."

She took a deep breath that rocked her pointed tits, then walked through the door.

Kitten noted that customers were few as she threaded her way between the tables and perched her shapely rump on a bar stool. She also noted that Cleo Brill was not in sight. Kitten ordered a gimlet and flamed a cigarette to life while she waited for the drink to land in front of her. She sucked on the cigarette and picked up a view of the room in the back bar minor. There were no familiar faces at the two occupied tables.

"Here's your drink, lady."

Kitten lost interest in the table customers. She fished a dollar bill from her shoulder bag and dropped it on the moist bar. She started to sample the gimlet. She had it nearly to her lips when Cleo Brill unexpectedly popped up behind her and said coldly, "You're determined to get my license suspended, aren't you?"

"Not really," Kitten replied as she turned on the stool to face the tangerine-haired woman she had been at odds with ever since she could remember. "I only dropped in to see if I still hated your guts."

Cleo's expressive lips twisted in a bitter smile. "Nobody changes feelings overnight, doll. You've been grinding your heels into the back of my neck longer than I care to remember. Why should you feel any differently toward me today?"

Kitten sighed. Getting Cleo to bury the hatchet wasn't going to be easy.

They stared at each other for a long moment, and it was Kitten who broke the silence. "Uncle Max did some talking this morning, and I did some listening. He told me about my father, and what Momma did to him." Her eyes crawled over the big-titted woman. "I thought you were the one who shot Daddy out of the saddle with that long tongue of yours. I was wrong." She paused to wet her lips. Then she slid from her perch to a standing position and said almost angrily, "Damn it to hell, Cleo, I'm trying to apologize."

At first, Cleo was too surprised to comprehend what was happening. When the surprise faded and the truth hit home, she grew embarrassed. Her face seemed to melt, then light up, the eyes suddenly as soft as her voice. "I know you're trying to apologize, doll. The question is… for what?" She shrugged and made her football-sized tits bobble. "I'm sure I don't know."

Kitten's anger dissolved into tenderness. Cleo wanted this truce. Kitten placed a hand on the woman's arm and said, "You're making this terribly easy for me, Cleo."

"I hope so, doll. I want you for a friend. I always did." She filled her lungs with air, exhaled it in the form of soft laughter. "But I'm still worried about my booze license."

"I won't touch it."

"There's no reason why you shouldn't. You paid for it."

She frowned for a moment, then made up her mind about something and said, "I have an idea. Why don't you pick up your drink and bring it back to my apartment?" A harsh laugh bounced out of her. "Don't worry, I won't try to seduce you."

The hell you won't, Kitten thought as she followed Cleo's swaying hips up a narrow flight of stairs. I'll make you seduce me. Once and for all, I'm going to find out if you're as good in the sack as Momma thought you were…

The apartment was soundproof, and dedicated to sex. Lewd paintings in expensive frames dotted the walls, while statuettes carved from driftwood cluttered the floor, end tables and various nooks and crannies. Behind the black leather couch was a bookcase – shelves crammed with books dealing with witchcraft, abnormal psychology, books on wild sexual practices, and works of fiction dealing with the subject of lesbianism.

Weird. Real weird. But at the same time… stimulating.

Cleo misinterpreted the expression she caught on Kitten's face and said apologetically, "I'm sorry you find this place so repulsive, doll."

Kitten's smile was quick. "But I don't. It's just that I'm so flabbergasted. I've never seen anything quite like this before."

"It doesn't sicken you?"

Kitten shook her head. "Yesterday it would have, but not today. I've done some growing up since last night."

Cleo's eyes turned shrewd. "With Gil Savage?"

Kitten sampled her gimlet, nodded. "And Dr. Dubois. And Liz Trent." Laughter bubbled in her voice. "And this morning with dirty old Uncle Max." She locked glances with the again surprised woman. "About the only one I haven't made it with is you." There, it was out!

Cleo licked a droplet of sweat from her upper lip. Her eyes probed the depths of Kitten's, looking for a cruel joke that wasn't there, and then she said quietly, "I hope to hell you know what you're doing, doll. I wouldn't want you to have any regrets after…"

Cleo was still talking when Kitten closed the narrow space that crouched between them and kissed her into silence. The glass in her right hand tilted and the gimlet spilled on the floor as Kitten locked her arms around the woman's waist to bring her cunt against hers.

Cunts met, tits collided, but it was the kiss that started to produce heat in their loins. It was a long kiss in which Kitten's tongue played the aggressor, and by the time she withdrew it from Cleo's mouth, the woman was breathless.

"Damn," Cleo panted as she stepped back to admire Kitten, "you really have changed! What a french-kiss! I felt it all the way down to my toenails!" She laughed. "Liz Trent did a good job of turning you on. What did she use- her tongue?"

"Isn't that the only way it can be done?"

Cleo shook her head. "There are other ways women can make it with each other."

"Oh?"

"Would you like to find out one of those ways?"

"I'm game for anything right now," Kitten purred. "The way my cunt feels at this moment, I'd even settle for a ride on your finger."