Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Mult, Consensual, Romantic, Reluctant, Gay, Lesbian, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Humor, Cheating, Slut Wife, DomSub, Spanking, Swinging, First, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Petting, Sex Toys, Squirting, Exhibitionism, Caution, Transformation, .
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Nina is wealthy, heterosexual and running errands in her Mercedes while her self-centered husband is away on a business trip. When the car breaks down, she walks to a bar to make a call. That's where she meets Danielle, the bar's manager. It's a lesbian bar, and Danielle helps her find a mechanic, and is kind enough to give her a ride home
"It's a Mercedes. It'll never breakdown." My husband's words echoed in my brain as the sleek black machine sputtered and chugged, and finally wheezed, leaving me rolling on momentum only. I coasted, turning gently off the roadway, and came to a stop on the side of the highway.
Then again, David's words had rarely come through in the last couple of years. The only thing I could count on was that he was working, and he was, again, eleven states away, when I could have used him to rescue me.
Beautiful and expensive as it was, the thing wouldn't start. And as smart and educated and well off as any 36-year old woman could hope to be, I was helpless. My expensive cell phone was dead, and my very expensive car was deader yet.
With a sigh, I looked around and saw that there was a cluster of shops about a quarter mile down the highway--I was on the outskirts of town after coming back from my sister's house--but there was a cocktail lounge almost across the street. They would surely have a phone I could use.
The walk was short, about two minutes, but still somewhat of an aggravation, considering that it was hot, I was in heels, and I could see that this would probably ruin the rest of the afternoon.
The bar had kind of a funny name: The Daisy Chain. I shrugged, pulled open the wooden door, and immediately felt out of place.
It's not that I don't go to bars. My husband is a member of the country club where we live, there are a couple of places downtown we've met other couples and business associates of his for drinks. I'm just not used to pool tables, linoleum floors, and heavy metal on the jukebox. The place was relatively clean, and the barmaid smiled at me as she looked me up and down. I guess I kind of dripped wealth, even though I was dressed casual, in a pair of shorts and a sleeveless top. My dark hair and makeup were fresh from my visit to the salon, earlier in the day though, and I'm sure she didn't miss the diamond on my left hand. Few people did.
"Hiya hon, what can I get you?"
I smiled back, wondering how much she paid for the tattoos that ran up both arms, and whether they were more expensive than the pierced tongue.
"Oh, nothing right now. Except a phone. My car's broke down across the highway."
"Aww, that sucks. Okay, I'm sure you can use the office phone." She pointed to a door. "The manager, Danny, is in there. Danny knows an excellent mechanic close by here, too. Might help you out."
"Thanks," I said, heading for the door. "It's a Mercedes though."
"Yep, he specializes in foreign cars," she called after me. "Talk to Danny."
I was encouraged. A guy who owned a bar would definitely know a good honest mechanic, wouldn't he? Made sense, even to the rich, society woman from the other side of town. As I made my way to the manager's office, I was only vaguely aware that there were only a few people there, and only one guy among at least five women. He was at the jukebox, with his back to me. Unusual ratio, I thought, but it was three in the afternoon, and who knows.
I opened the door to the manager's office and saw a woman in her mid-20's sitting at a desk, talking on the phone. She smiled, a lovely, almost handsome smile blossoming from within a framework of silky blondish-brown hair, and held out her finger as if to say, "Just one minute."
When she got off the phone, I said, "Hi, is Danny around?"
She got up, and I realized that she stood nearly 5'10. She was a striking young woman, and even in a tank top and a pair of baggy dockers, it was clear that she had a very nice body. She stuck out her hand.
"I'm Danny," she said cheerfully, her dark eyes gleaming.
"Ohh! Sorry," I said, laughing at my own assumption. "I thought-"
"That's ok. It's Danielle. Everyone calls me Danny."
"I'm Nina," I said, taking her hand. Her fingers were ladylike, but strong. She was half-beach babe, half "American Gladiators" constestant, with smooth muscular arms that somehow did not take away from her femininity. Danny didn't dress like the manager of an establishment, but then, this wasn't exactly the country club David and I went to. She had no bra on under the tank top, but she certainly was justified in being proud. Her breasts weren't big, but they weren't small, and they were pert and her nipples poked prominently through the thin fabric.
She had no tattoos, but had a small stud in her nose, something I would never wear, but that on her was somehow very pretty.
"I just need to use the phone if I could. My car broke down, and your barmaid said it--"
"Please, help yourself." She handed me the phone and with a gentle hand on my back, guided me to the chair as she moved aside. "Just take over my desk. I was going to leave soon anway. By the way, I know a real good mechanic. My friend owns a shop nearby and they do great work. They'll be open for another two hours..." she said, glancing at her watch. "Might save you some time if you were going to call AAA or something."
"You mean, they would come out to the car and check it out?"
"Sure," Danielle said, "especially if I introduced you. If you like, I can run you over there. It's barely a minute away."
"Wow, that's great... if it wouldn't be too much trouble."
"I'd be happy to. By the way," she said, smiling softly, "I love the way you do your hair. Really pretty."
"Oh thanks," I said, touching it self-conciously, "just went in today." I was about to recommend the salon to her, as sort of a reciprocation for the mechanic referral, but something told me this girl just didn't do salons often. She had a natural beauty, and didn't spend much effort on makeup. Her dark eyebrows would have been plucked by many women more intent on getting a "Cosmo" look, but she was happy with them, and her smile was captivating. A healthy set of white teeth, and strong cheeks made her look, as I said before, almost handsome, but the look had it's own prettiness, to be sure.
I put the phone down. "Ok, I'll give your friend a try."
As I walked out of the bar behind "Danny" several sets of eyes turned our way. When the "guy" at the jukebox looked me up and down, I could see I was mistaken and that he was in fact a short haired, masculine looking young woman. In fact, there were no men in there. My suspicions that I was in a lesbian bar were immediately confirmed when two girls, one a short pretty latina, walked arm in arm to the pool tables, and kissed each other on the lips.
"I'll be back shortly," Danny called to the bar.
As we walked out together into the sunlight, a short, spike-haired girl with dark makeup said hi to Danielle, then looked at me and flashed a brief smile. As the door was closing, I heard her saying to the barmaid, "Who's the chick with Danny?"
My god, I thought, fifteen minutes ago I was heading to my comfortable 5/3 pool home in Buckhead. Now I'm the gossip item at some fringe lesbian bar.
Soon, I would be home, one way or the other. I would put the Mercedes in the shop, and call my friend Jan to come pick me up, and we'd go have a drink and I could tell her this funny story.
We rode in Danielle's jeep, and the wind swept back my dark, shoulder length hair as Danielle, with a pair of sunglasses on, looked like some outback Amazon as she worked the stick and roared us through several backroads to a tiny auto shop.
"So the Daisy Chain, it's all, um..."
"Yes, it's a gay bar," she said matter-of-factly. "But that doesn't mean we can't help out straight damsels in distress," she added, laughing. She had an infectious smile, and I couldn't help but join her in laughter at my predicament when she put it that way.
"Danny honey!" a woman of about fifty said as she we came through the door. Her salt and pepper hair was short, and she had thick glasses on. Now this woman looked like a lesbian, unlike Danielle, who hid it a bit better. Danielle had sort of a male attitude, I was noticing, that was comforting, but she was a very pretty young woman. It was an odd combination that made her very easy to be around.
I explained what had happened to the car, and Danielle went out with the owner to talk to the mechanic. In five more minutes, we were all huddled around my Mercedes a few blocks away, and the mechanic, an thick-boned Italian guy named Freddy, was asking my permission to tow the car to his lot and work on it. I looked at Danielle. I hardly knew these people, but Freddy was going to tow for free. Danielle just smiled at me, and for some reason, I felt ok with the whole idea. I agreed, and soon Freddy was hooking up the car, and I handed him the keys without a second thought. Had Danielle not been there, I'm not sure I would have even considered using a mechanic that my husband didn't know about. But David was fifteen hundred miles away, and he hadn't called all day or last night even to see how I was. To hell with it, I'll do this myself.
"Well, let me get you home then," Danielle said as she headed the Jeep back toward the Daisy Chain.
"Oh, no need. I'll call my friend, she'll come get me."
"Ok, but, why inconvenience her, Nina? I have to go that way anyways, and I'll be glad to drop you off."
"You've done so much already..."
"Nonsense. C'mon, I'm taking you."
I felt this relief in my chest. Somehow, I didn't want to bother Jan, and Danielle really meant her offer. She was as genuine as anyone I had ever met. It was something in those eyes... she was so confident, and so easy about everything. As we drove and chatted about where we lived, I wondered about her. What was her lover like? What kind of woman was intimate with a woman like Danielle? All I could really conclude was that Danielle, with her looks and her personality, had no trouble finding someone to love.
I wanted to ask her questions about what her lesbian life was like, but I couldn't formulate a question without thinking it would sound like she was under some sort of microscope, or on display like a freak show.
She beat me to the punch as we entered my neighborhood. The jeep breezed past huge, palacial homes with Jaguars and BMWs and towering wrought iron gates. The rolling yards were resplendent in keenly manicured shades of green.
"So, we are in beautiful Nina-land now, huh?" she said.
Now I was the one who felt like a freak. Remember, Nina Cutler, the people who live like you are the minority.
"Yes," I found myself saying, "but it's not all it's cracked up to be, all the time."
Danielle just smiled. "And happily married, to some handsome rich guy, too, I bet." When she said it, it wasn't offensive. She was honestly appraising what she knew-what both of us knew-was true.
"Yeah, he's rich and handsome..." then I stunned myself when I let the next phrase slip out, "But there's more to a relationship than that."
"Amen," she said immediately, as if she knew I was going to say something like that.
Nina, you idiot. This lady is helping you get your car fixed, and giving you a ride home. What are you doing, revealing details about your unhappiness in your marriage?
As we pulled into the driveway of my huge brick home, I felt like I cold sit and talk to Danielle for the rest of the day.
"Danielle, you've been so sweet. My god, you really bailed me out. I don't' know how to thank you... I--"
"Nina, there's no need. Glad to help." There was that smile again, and for some reason, I wanted to photograph it, or paint it, or... what on earth for though? Well, back to being civil; I just couldn't let her go without some reciprocation, and I couldn't offer her money, that would be so ugly, with me being wealthy and her not.
"At least let me offer you a drink. Come in out of the heat."
She shrugged, and to my delight, accepted.
"What can I get you?" I asked her, going behind the bar my husband kept at one corner of our sprawling kitchen. She was silently "Wowing" as she looked around the house.
"Umm... got any vodka? If you do, I'll take a vodka and tonic."
"Do I have vodka! I think my husband's got everything in this place you have at the Daisy Chain, for godsake."
She laughed at that, and for some reason, I was happy to have made her laugh.
We sat on the sofa and had a drink and talked. She was from Baltimore originally, and came to Atlanta to go to Georgia Tech. I told her my boring tale: girls' Catholic school in Florida, then college at Florida State, then met the "man of my dreams," who inherited his father's architectural firm, and here I am, a "kept" woman.
I shook my head. "Not yet. We decided to wait five years, then three years ago we started trying. I got pregnant, but I miscarried."
Danielle's face showed the sadness that only a woman could appreciate in another woman's failure to deliver a child. Though she had never been pregnant herself, she said the words, that I know she meant, and that I never heard from the lips of my own husband.
"Nina, I'm so sorry."
We talked some more, and it wasn't long before the third vodka and tonic was being poured.
"I've kept you so long," she said. "I'm sure you've got things to do..."
I didn't, but I thought maybe she did. "Danielle, if there is anything I can do for you... I mean you helped me so much today."
"Aww maybe one thing," she said, smiling a smile that somehow made me want to drain my drink and pour another. What was it about those eyes, that mouth... ? My god I would bet every lesbian in the Daisy Chain would want to meet with the manager.
"Of course. Just name it," I said.
Her eyes peered at me deeply, but gently, as if she were looking into a forest at a deer.
I froze, completely floored by the request.
She nodded. "That's all I ask, just a teensy one." She put her thumb and forefinger close together, and giggled slightly. Then she looked at me with eyes that seemed to hug my soul. "You've got the loveliest mouth."
Women don't say that to each other, not about their mouths anyway. I was almost speechless as she sat there, calmly waiting my reply, and quite clearly ready to cheerfully take no for an answer.
Well of course I wasn't going to kiss her. My goodness. I was married, to a man. But I still wanted to understand, and maybe secretly hear more.
"You... want to kiss me?"
With a voice that was nearly a whisper, Danielle looked at me and smiled, closing her eyes briefly. "Who wouldn't want to, Nina?"
Well, ok, maybe I would kiss her after all, I thought, my head spinning. No. No. Can't do it. Tell her now, tell her cordially, and part friends.
Before I could start to think how I was going to say no, my lips parted, and before I could start to formulate my apology, and tell her what a nice girl she was but gee I just wasn't into that, my head tilted toward her, and her mouth was on mine.
I thought the kiss was going to be like looking the time in the Virgin Islands when David and I were diving off this ten foot cliff. It wasn't that high, but it was still thrilling and scary when I did it. Yes, it would be just like that, so just get it over with.
But it wasn't a ten foot cliff. When Danielle's lips enclosed mine, and her tongue went into my mouth, I might have thought my leap was ten feet of air from cliff to water, but instead I found my heart hand-gliding over the Grand Canyon.
I had lost the "no, thanks" battle, and know I knew the war had one more frontier-end the kiss graciously, but do it quick. As my muscles tried to go through the motions to pull away, I found my arms looped around Danielle's neck, and the kiss only went on.
Somewhere, in the giddy, insane swirls of sensations that were turning me to melted butter, I was trying to yell at myself: Nina Cutler, what are you doing? you are heterosexual, you have a rich husband and fine home, and you belong to the Buckhead Women's Society and... and... and oh, saints save me, this woman's kiss is pure heaven.
And on it went... my posh living room silent except for the faint rustle of our arms around each other, the moist echoes of our mouths entwined, exploring, tasting, drinking in the softness and flowery scents of each other's skin.
She stopped it, momentarily. A pause in a tornado of excitement, her forehead touching mine, our breath exhaling gently against each other's faces. Her arms were around me, her long fingers stroking my back gently.
"Are we ok?" she whispered.
"No..." I whispered back, my voice shaking as I looked into those gorgeous eyes. "We are not ok..." and with that my mouth clamped back onto hers, wanting her intoxicating tongue to bathe with mine again. I was turning to molten lava, and a deep whimper escaped my throat when she broke the kiss again and sweetly gnawed at my neck with her soft lips.
I had never been touched, kissed and held so sweetly in all my life, and as much as I knew I was tumbling into an abyss that I should never have even peeked into, I never wanted it to end.
"May I?" Danielle said, her hands tugging upward on my top.
I just nodded, and my face fell helplessly to her shoulder and neck, kissing her, tasting her skin, wanting this mysterious creature more than I can remember wanting anything.
After she pulled my top off I hurriedly undid my bra, and my smallish breasts brushed against hers. She had pulled off her shirt as well, and now our naked nipples brushed sensuously against one another. Dear god what was happening to me?
"Let's go up to my bed," I said, breathing hard, unable to keep my eyes off the beautiful young woman who just half an hour before was a stranger.
She nodded, smiled that devestating smile, and we joined hands and walked up the staircase to the place that was supposed to be reserved for me and the man I married.
Ma/Fa / Fa/Fa / Mult / Consensual / Romantic / Reluctant / Gay / Lesbian / BiSexual / Heterosexual / Humor / Cheating / Slut Wife / DomSub / Spanking / Swinging / First / Oral Sex / Anal Sex / Masturbation / Petting / Sex Toys / Squirting / Exhibitionism / Caution / Transformation /