Sandra and Nicole Lucy and Dearie


Caution: This Lesbian Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa, Consensual, Lesbian, Fiction, .

Desc: Lesbian Sex Story: Some women like other women. What happens if...

I had known Kent all my life but at a distance. We were both descendants of the founding fathers of the Great Lakes Bank and Trust. The first time I remembered meeting him, we were both very young. He pulled my hair and I cried. After that, he seemed to stay away from me. He lived in Birmingham. I lived in Grosse Point Shores. For those of you unfamiliar with Southeast Michigan, let me say the difference was Old Money in the Points and new money out there in the west. There WAS a differenceMy high school was Dominican. His was Catholic Central. My college was Siena Heights also Dominican. His college was the University of Michigan-Dearborn. His major was pre-law. Mine was art history. He attended the University of Michigan Law School. I found a position at the Detroit Institute of Arts, The DIA.

My life has always been rather easy. College was no different. I had found early in my life that boys were rude, crude and lewd and every one of them wanted to get me nude. High school and college did notthing to change my opinion. If anything, it solidified it. As a classmate at Siena said, 'Teenage Boys and all Men just want to get into a tight virgin Catholic girl'. They did NOT get into me. They did get into her quite often. She was on the pill but still had two abortions in her four years at Siena.

My position at the DIA was to assist in the receiving of incoming art works, catalogue them and store them until they went on display. When the time came to close the exhibit, they were repacked in their original containers and sent on to their next destination. It was good, clean and fun work. The money be situated that great but I lived at home. My father had given me a new car when I turned sixteen. There was another at my high school graduation and again when I graduated from Siena Heights so I had always had dependable transportation. There was a mechanic who picked up my car and did something to it every three months. I didn't think of the car except as transportation.

I had been employed at the DIA for six months when my life changed. The exhibit was titled Old Flemish Masters. There was a formal party for the Opening Night for those sponsors who had given the correct amount of money to the DIA. I was dressed in a new evening gown and the color matched my green eyes. I was in charge of insuring that all food on nine tables in three different locations was were replaced as needed and of course to chat with the Patrons. Drinks were at a cash bar unless the Patron had given enough money and had the correct pass. Then drinks were free. Some checks were written that night to insure the passes were valid. The Passes were the best way to tell the people with real money.

I soon found that the caterers were true professionals and needed no prodding or oversight. I relaxed and chatted with the Patrons. Fun and easy as fine art is easy to talk about.

A tall man in a tuxedo approached me. He had a very nice smile and he did look familiar.

"Hello, Sandra."

It took me several seconds, "Kent McCleary! It has been years. How are you doing?"

"Well, it has been just over four years, Sandra and I have joined our fathers' bank."

"Yes, I do recall father mentioning that at dinner a while back. I am sure they were lucky to get you."

"I was lucky my dad could get me in," he had a nice laugh. "I actually came here tonight to invite you to the play at the Fisher Theater and of course to see these wonderful old paintings again."

"I had planned on attending. Yes, Kent, it should be fun. I do so love My Fair Lady."

"I have tickets for two very good seats for Wednesday night. Would you prefer dinner before or after?"

"After, please, I will have to go home to change and I will have a small snack to carry me over."

"Then I will pick you up at seven at your house, the curtain rises at eight."


We spent the remainder of the night just chatting and discussing the Old Flemish Masters. I was pleasantly surprised that he was so well versed in fine art. He was intelligent, witty in a sensible way (nothing crude, no double meanings). He dressed well as the tuxedo had been tailored for him. He was a perfect gentleman. The only time he touched me was when one of the several children at the opening ran into me. He held my arm and stabilized me so I didn't fall.

We began to date. You know, the usual; theaters, movies, trips to a casino, music and dance recitals of the children of friends, dinners with my friends from the DIA, picnics with his friends from the Bank. He seemed to fit in everywhere. I was very impressed with his social skills. I was NOT impressed with some of his friends, Bill Ramsey for one. At an indoor pool party for people Kent knew from the bank, Bill Ramsey actually asked Kent if he was sleeping with me. I Was Standing There! Kent told him very quickly and harshly that one did not speak that way in front of a lady. There did seem to be certain friendliness between the two of them earlier in the day. That was why I rarely drank. I feared I might become a rude, crude person like Ramsey.

Kent had kissed me many times, he was very skilled with his kissing and he was also very skilled in moving his hands as he was kissing me. Often to stop this behavior, I would have to stop the kissing. Once he actually got his hand inside my brassiere. I was shocked but he just laughed at me.

"What will you do after we are married?"

Where had this come from? Married? Me? Marry him? "Are you asking me to marry you?"

"No, but I will as soon as I know your answer will be yes."

"And if the answer is no?"

He did have a very pleasant laugh, "Then I won't ask you. I will warn you that your mother already has the wedding invitation list prepared."

I fought back laughter, "She may be expecting things that may not occur. I am not sure I want to marry."

He just laughed again and slid his hand back into my bra. It was almost exciting. My nipples were firm. It didn't feel bad and I continued to date him. He was working his way up my thighs on our next date. According to him, our families had already made all the decisions and all he had to do was convince me to open my legs, let him have a sample and then, of course, agree to marry him.

Early that spring things changed again. The DIA had The Old Flemish Masters for a year before we sent them on to San Diego. We had a new collection of great paintings delivered from the Louvre in Paris, The Old Dutch Masters. The Director of the DIA asked me to allow the traveling representative of the Louvre to stay at my home. It seemed like a good idea. She would be a young woman in a strange city. It would be easier for her if she had a ready place to live and a friend. I agreed and waited for the paintings and Nicole d' Oryes to arrive.

She arrived a week before the paintings. On the 15th of May, she landed at Detroit Metropolitan Airport. I picked her up in my car, a white Dodge mini-van. I had prepared a sign with Nicole written on it. She was one of the last two people off the plane. She was talking to a rather nondescript older man and seemed to be having a grand time. She saw the sign and after her luggage was loaded by the skycaps, we were headied for my home.

"Was the trip tiring?" A safe start for conversation.

"Not at all."

She was French, the accent was unmistakable, "I met the most darling man. Since I had no idea of the phone number where I would be staying, he gave me his."

"That should work well."

Maybe she was better equipped to handle a strange city than I had been led to believe.

"As soon as he sees his wife and settles down from the trip, he will get a call from me. Is there a quiet out of the way restaurant where we could have dinner?"

Dinner? Out of the way? Quiet? Wife? "But he is married."

"And I am not. I do have a man, Jacques, in Paris who wants to marry me and move me and all my belongings into his estate just outside of the city. At present, he keeps me in a townhouse. I want to wait a while before we marry, as he will want babies and I want to play first."

I was driving and it was difficult to look at her but look I did. I already knew she was taller than me, about five six to my five even. I had a figure. She seemed painfully thin, almost boyish. Her hair was a violent red. She wore too much makeup. The eyes were not green, not brown, hazel? From the looks of the blouse, there was very little underneath it. She would not be considered pretty. Yet, a married man was going to meet her in a quiet out of the way place for dinner. And she had just arrived in the country. Her chatter continued as she told me about her past, her lovers (all married men, it seemed) and her plans for the time she would be in the States. If she was to be believed, she was going to date a lot, have a lot sex and it would all be paid for by married men plus receiving various expensive gifts.

I found this woman fascinating. She was living life as large as she could and enjoying it. Suddenly, I was jealous. I had always been comfortable with my life. Now suddenly I was a mouse when compared to this high-flying brightly colored bird. The suit I had so carefully chosen to meet her was suddenly a rag. I was shocked at the way she talked and the way she lived. I felt like one of the stupid stepsisters at the ball with Cinderella.

She talked constantly while we traveled to my home. On arrival, I had the three gardeners help with the nine bags she had.

Or as she said, "Just barely enough to get by."

I hoped it was enough, eight of her bags were huge.

.... There is more of this story ...

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Story tagged with:
Fa/Fa / Consensual / Lesbian / Fiction /