Madame B: Ecstasy

At some stage, most women have wondered what it would be like to be with another woman, although we tend to lust after distant celebrities or remote acquaintances. But the woman who told me this story found that the object of her fantasies was close to home-too close for comfort. You know what it's like having roommates. You start off with separate shelves in the fridge, labeling your milk, itemizing the phone bill, and forbidding each other from using your shampoo, but before long you're sharing everything. Clothes you swore you'd never lend anyone somehow find their way on to your roommate when she's got a date. You know how it is.

That's how it was with me and Laura. We'd been friends since our late teens, and when we landed our first jobs in the same big city, it was a foregone conclusion that we'd share an apartment. We were as close as sisters and had never had an argument, but perhaps more important than that, we just about wore the same dress and shoe sizes and definitely shared a sense of style, so that by moving in together we each effectively doubled our wardrobes, and what better criteria can there be for a roommate? Although we were the same size, we were different shapes. Laura's figure was a little fuller than mine. She was curvy where I was athletic and lean. I would never in a million years fill one of her bras. But that was fine; clothes that hung off me like I was a coat hanger came to life on Laura, her curves filling out the fabric around her tits and ass. When she wore one of my tank tops, she looked poured in, just about ready to burst right out of it. Whenever she borrowed my clothes, men looked at her as though they hoped the seams would split and the flesh be exposed at any moment. I know Laura got off on that. The difference in our figures worked for me, too. I liked the way her jeans hung off my hips and left a little slouch when I wore them. Like borrowing your boyfriend's.

After a couple of months of living together, we had an unspoken rule that each could borrow the other's clothes whenever she liked as long as they were back in the closet, washed, and pressed within a few days. It worked so well that in a while we kind of forgot who owned what.

But things changed the day I found that I was out of clean pants. It was my turn to do the laundry, and I'd gotten behind in it. Borrowing jeans and dresses was one thing, but underwear… I wasn't sure. I padded down the hall to Laura's room to ask if she had any spares. It would be a little weird, but I thought she'd be cool. I knocked on her door. Damn! She was at the gym. I'd forgotten. Oh well, nice girls don't go commando! I'd borrow them now and have them back before she knew anything. I pushed the door open, and a familiar floral scent filled my nostrils. She'd borrowed my perfume again. On her, the light fragrance took on a slightly different scent: headier and muskier. I breathed it in. I liked it.

Stepping over discarded magazines and makeup bottles, I made my way over to her chest of drawers. Pants and bras of every kind spilled out all over. I let my fingers trail through the lace of a delicate bra, savoring the feel of the silk against my skin. I suddenly felt guilty, as though I were somewhere I shouldn't be.

Rummaging through the tangled strips of silk, cotton, and lace, I saw a flash of stripy underwear in the corner and identified them as a pair of girl-boxers I'd noticed Laura lounging around the apartment in. I stepped out of my pajama bottoms so that I was naked but for my white bra. I slipped the boxers on, enjoying the way they felt, slightly loose, so that the air could still get to my skin. I admired myself in Laura's full-length mirror. I looked good, although not as pretty as Laura.

I went to close the drawer and heard a low humming sound coming from inside. Curious, I investigated further. My hands closed on something soft but solid, and it was vibrating. I pulled it out, and, half-wrapped in a red silk scarf, there it was: a pink, glittering vibrator, shaped like a cock. I let out an involuntary gasp. I'd seen vibrators in sex shops and reviewed in women's magazines, but I'd never had one in my hands before and I certainly would never have expected Laura to own one. I thought we told each other everything. "Laura," I whispered, even though she wasn't there to hear me, "you dark horse!"

Suddenly I had a vision-and why wouldn't I?-of Laura using the toy on herself, running it all over her nipples, holding it against her panties. In my mind's eye I saw her sliding it in and out of her pussy. I pictured her face in orgasm, twisted with pleasure as she came, and felt myself blushing, the heat of my shame creeping over my face. To my surprise though, the image turned me on. Really turned me on. I'd never experienced a surge of arousal like the one I felt right then, urgent, almost violent, a throb that resonated through me.

I sniffed at the sex toy, hoping it would smell of Laura, but it was clean and had a neutral, plasticky smell. It was still buzzing gently in my hand. I saw the "on" switch, which I must have triggered when I slammed the drawer shut. The vibrations traveled up my arm and toward my neck, so that I could feel them throughout my body.

Without even thinking, I held the toy against myself, letting it murmur against Laura's boxers. Oh my God, I thought. Even through the cool fabric, I could feel how hard my clit was, standing to attention, even before it grew hot, pulsing under the vibrator's buzz. Still thinking about Laura, I pushed it closer. I could feel every fiber of the brushed cotton of her panties: soft and dry in contrast with the hot, wet feeling between my legs. What happened next overwhelmed me. Within seconds, my legs had started to buckle under me, and I staggered to her bed. I increased the pressure of the vibrator on my clit, lying facedown on Laura's unmade bedsheets, feeling the moisture seep into the gusset of her panties. Seconds later I had come harder and longer than ever in my life. I succumbed to six, maybe seven massive spasms of pleasure, breathing in her scent as the juice from my pussy soaked her panties.

Whoa! What had I just done? I stood up on shaky legs and looked at myself in the mirror again. The face I saw now was different from the one that had been reflected there just a few minutes ago. A telltale pink flush stained my neck, breasts, and cheeks, and my features wore an unmistakable expression of guilt. This was Laura, a friend who was more like a sister than anyone I'd ever known. I'd always been so straight before, and here I was having my first lesbian fantasy, my first sex-toy experience, and the strongest orgasm I'd ever had all in the space of a couple of minutes.

A noise in the street outside brought me to my senses as I realized that Laura would be home any moment. I used one of her makeup wipes to clean up the vibrator, wrapped it up in its silk scarf again, and replaced it in its secret hiding place, hoping it didn't bear some trace of my body that would betray me. Had I wrapped it up the right way? Had I put it back in the right drawer? Laura's bedroom looked like a chaotic jumble of clothes, but she always laughed that she knew exactly where everything was. What would she think if she caught me? She'd be totally freaked out, that's what. I would lose the best friend I cherished and the apartment I loved. I gathered my pajama bottoms from her bedroom floor and hid in my own room. When Laura did come home, fresh from the gym and a shower, I called "Hello" but didn't go out to see her. I couldn't face her, not just yet. That night, my sleep was interrupted by dreams of Laura using the toy on me and letting me put it inside her. I woke twice, sweating, in the grip of a huge rush, my hands inside my pajamas, where my fingers found proof that wet dreams aren't just for teenage boys.

The next day I shared a coffee with Laura over breakfast. She stood in the kitchen, dressed only in a light cotton wrap. In the silhouette she cast against the window, I could see her breasts in profile, round and pert despite the fact she wasn't wearing a bra. Her small waist, the gentle swell of her butt, and a tuft of pubic hair were also clearly visible through her wrap. Knowing there was nothing but a wispy garment between the two of us made my pulse race in a way I wasn't used to. I must have been acting a little weird, because before she disappeared into her room to dress for work, Laura looked closely at me.