Chapter 143

Waiting for Laura when she got home after her delightful and exhausting evening of fucking with Shavon and the incredibly delectable Vondi was a message from, of all people, Alison Sax.

"Laura. I'm coming to San Francisco for a show. Be there tomorrow night. Dying to see you. Call me at the Ritz Carlton, I'll be there by four. You know what I want. [Then a loud whisper.] I'm wet wet wet."

Laura felt her heart actually flutter, and a fantastic, unexpected twinge deep in her pussy. After all, she had just experienced several hours of high-quality, torrid fucking with two of the most beautiful women she had ever known. But Alley's voice was enough to light her fires all over again.

Even though Shavon called her at work, just so they could relive last night, Laura could not keep her mind off Alison. Shavon was disconsolate because her husband had returned. No more lesbian screwing for a while. She and Vondi had done it again after Laura had left.

"She's so sweet," Shavon explained. "I've known her since sixth grade. I just had to do it again with her."

"She's delightful," Laura agreed. "I hope she doesn't get some awful disease."

"I want you too, Laura," Shavon whispered. "Alone. You know, three is fun all right, but I want you alone."

"You know I'm waiting by the phone," Laura teased.

"You better not be screwing Vondi, girl. Not when I can't join you."

"You screwed her without me," Laura said.

"She's my friend. She's my oldest friend."

"Don't worry about it, okay? Your friendship, I mean yours and mine, is too important to me."

And she meant it, though right now she couldn't keep her mind off Alison. Except for Rhonda, Alison was the only white woman Laura had ever gone to bed with. Big deal, she thought. What difference did their color make? And yet she knew it meant a lot to her. Both Shavon and Vondi were deliciously black, and she had luxuriated in their skin, being pressed on all sides by them, rubbing against both of their naked bodies at once, sucking their large, pulpy black nipples.

And yet Alison had perfect skin. It was flawlessly creamy and smooth, and Laura's memories of their moments together in her hotel room bed were very exciting. Especially after she had taught Alison that she could come more than once, and powerfully enough to lose her breath and almost her senses. After that, Alison had wanted to fuck all the time. Laura smiled, remembering it. From the sound of her phone message, she hadn't changed.

At four fifteen, while still at work, she phoned the Ritz. Alison was not yet there. Laura went home, had a glass of wine, tried not to think about Alison and the wild fucking they had done together in New York. About six o'clock, her own phone rang, a piercing, startling ring that made her jump out of her chair.

"It's me, our flight was late," Alley's voice said. She whispered, "I'm still wet."

"You little tramp," Laura teased.

"Come and get it. Room 755. I'm taking a bath and perfuming my pussy for you, Laura."

Laura's blood sizzled and pulsed through her body wildly as she drove to the hotel. She had to pay a fortune to park, but it was worth it. Alison met her at the hotel room door, wearing only a bra and a half-slip, her big, limpid brown eyes deep enough to fall into, and her incredibly sensual mouth pouting.

"You didn't give me time to even bathe," she whined fetchingly, letting Laura in.

"You move like a snail. I could've had two baths by now."

"Here, how do I lock this damn thing," Alison said, fumbling with the door lock.

Laura helped her. Then they kissed, right by the door. The kiss became very hot. Laura kissed her neck, and ran her hands all over Alley's half-naked back. But Alison pulled back, temperamental.

"Hey, calm down, okay? You're as bad as a man, just wanting to grope me and fuck me without even a little conversation first. Laura, you're too horny, don't you ever get laid?"

"You're very fetching," Laura panted, embarrassed over her eagerness.

Alison was incredibly desirable. Laura wanted to bury her face in the girl's deep cleavage.

"Let me at least make you jealous first," Alison flirted.

Laura ate her alive with her eyes. "You're making me burn."

"It's good for you to wait," Alison said, petulantly. "Fucking isn't everything. You'll never guess who I went to bed with," she said, pirouetting.

Her large breasts bounced inside the pale champagne lace bra. Laura felt a sharp little pinch in her pussy as she watched. Oh god! she thought. What a woman!

"Who?" Laura croaked softly.

"Her. You know, your twin. Actually, it wasn't really her. Just another model who looks a lot like her. I think they're grooming her to take Stephanie's place. Her name is Emily Fortescue, can you believe that?" Alison smirked.

"You went to bed with Emily?"

"Stephanie wasn't even there, just this Emily person. She was just as gorgeous, though. How do you like that, two people who look like you. We got along okay, maybe because we're in the same business. So, she kept looking at my boobs, and telling me how great my body was, and we sort of ended up in her hotel room doing it. It really wasn't all that much fun, though. She isn't like you. She only wanted to do it twice, then stop. And she takes a long time to come, just like I did before you got to me. So I got kind of tired and bored. There now, aren't you jealous?"

She smirked at Laura again, but Laura could detect the mischief deep in her limpid brown eyes. "Good thing she likes girls," Laura said. "Though who could resist you?"

"She's like a lot of models, she sort of swings both ways, depending on how she feels." Alison giggled. "I guess I'm that way now too, after you. I can blame it all on you. About a week after that I went to bed with a black model named Versana Pilcher. You know her? She looks a lot like Naomi Campbell, that beautiful black model with the long legs and the British accent?"

"I've seen her pictures. She's gorgeous."

"Have you ever been to bed with a black woman? I mean, I know you sort of prefer women, right? So, have you ever been to bed with a black one?"

"Once or twice," Laura said, looking away and swallowing.

"Aren't they so beautiful?" Alison gushed. "Their skin is so smooth, and sleek. And her pussy, you know, was this lovely long sort of seam of thin black lips with a shiny pink inside... god, it was so beautiful! I know you know that. Versana was better than Emily, but she was a little hard to talk to because she was taking something. Drugs or something. And she couldn't come either, because of the drugs, I guess. But I did. I came three times while she was licking me. But I couldn't make her come." Alison looked sad. "She said it was okay, it was the drugs, it had happened to her before. But I still felt bad."

"It happens," Laura said philosophically, envying Alison, thinking, I'd love to sleep with Naomi Campbell or Versana Pilcher, whoever she is, even if she didn't come. Anyway, I could make her come. I know it.

"Well, that's it," Alison said saucily, turning her body in such as way as to emphasize her incredible breasts and deep cleavage.

She knew it had the same effect on Laura that it had on most men. Laura could see that she had practiced this gesture so often, probably in front of a mirror, that it was almost second-nature. She could make a man, or in Laura's case (probably Emily Fortescue's too) a woman, want to rape her by merely turning in such a way that her breasts jiggled or swayed slightly inside her bra cups, or shadows caught her cleavage and the fine bones of her clavicles.