Chapter 11

"Andy Warhol lived in this building," said Elliot proudly as they entered the old Park Avenue South apartment building.

"Andy who?" asked Melissa. Sarah looked equally as baffled.

"You're kidding. He's like the most important artist of the second half of the 20^th Century. He's like my hero. I'm feeling old and I'm only twenty-two. You don't know either, Sarah?"

The old elevator arrived. They clambered into the confined space. Sophie pushed 4.

"I'm going to have to educate you two if we continue seeing each other."

Melissa started giggling, soon joined by Sarah. "We're kidding, Elliot," said Melissa. "I mean he's Pittsburgh's proud son."

"I know you're from some town in Pennsylvania ... Here we are." They stepped off the elevator. Elliot led them to his apartment.

"Pittsburgh's closer than Philadelphia," shrugged Melissa.

"Or almost as far away," Sarah countered. "Hinton's a puny speck in the eye of civilization. Nice pad."

Not a large space, the high ceiling and the large window facing Park Avenue made the two bedroom apartment feel more spacious. Also the sparse furnishings in the living room, softly rounded couch and matching arm chair, a glass coffee table, and the pale pink, almost white color scheme of the furniture, the walls and the Persian rug, helped the illusion.

Sophie set down the bag containing Mumms champagne and Remi Marten cognac on the counter dividing the moderate kitchen from the living room. The stools surrounding it, two on each side, provided the seating for a sort of dining table.

"Let me show you where to put your stuff, Sarah. I guess I'll give you guys the grand tour. Sophie? You know where the glasses are, right?"

Sophie nodded and smiled.

The girls followed Elliot into a small hallway. He opened the first door on the right, revealing a smallish bedroom with another large window. A double bed, a vanity, a chest of drawers and an armoire filled most of the space. "This is where Mom stays when she's here. You can toss your stuff anywhere."

Sarah relieved herself of the weight of her backpack, large purse and portfolio, all pressing heavily on her shoulders, dropping them in a corner as far from being in the way as possible. "Thanks," she sighed. "So your mom doesn't live here?"

"Thankfully not too often. She usually heads home to our little house in Yonkers. Dad needs the company."

"They're still married?" smiled Melissa.

"In their way. Dad kind of disappears in the presence of anyone. He defines meek and mild."

"What's he do?" asked Melissa.

"Accounting. Not too interesting. Mom makes up for his lack of presence. This door leads to the shared bathroom."

"Nice," said Sarah when they entered it. It had a long counter with two sinks, a shower stall and a round tub.

"This is my room, the second reason I got the place." They entered a large bedroom with a king sized bed, a desk and tilted drawing easel, another armoire which he revealed to be stuffed with multi media gadgets, a reclining chair with an antique goose neck lamp hovering over it, shelves crammed with books and two large chest of drawers.

"Very nice," giggled Melissa, caressing the mauve satin cover of the plush bed.

"Uhm, yes," Elliot responded, blushing slightly and cutely, at least to Melissa.

"Last but not least and the third reason for my living here. Can you believe the couple that lived here before used this as a nursery!?!"

Opening a door in the corner towards the hallway, he guided the girls into the largest closet either one had ever seen. Innumerable pairs of shoes tilted up from the floorboards. Three rows of cubbyholes contained carefully folded shirts. Suits and jackets and slacks and coats hung opposite the cubbyholes. At the end was female attire: dresses and dress suits and lingerie, with a line of women's shoes below them.

"Some are my moms, but a lot are my work or clothes I bought for inspiration."

"It's amazing and appropriate, Elliot," Sarah pronounced.

"I agree," said Elliot.

"I love your apartment," Melissa beamed.

"Me too."

They joined Sophie, smelling the brewing coffee. She had plated the three slices of cheesecake they had taken home from the deli, one each for Elliot and Melissa and the third one shared between Sarah and herself. "I hope you guys are ready for dessert," she said. "I'm brewing decaf if that's alright."

"Perfect," said Elliot, the girls nodding. "As usual."

"So domestic," smiled Sarah.

"I've often fended for myself," Sophie explained a little sadly.

"We're going to sit at the couch, if that's okay?" said Elliot grabbing the two plates and the two empty mugs, Melissa following. She and Sarah giggled.

"Of course it's okay, silly," said Melissa. "You're the master here."

"So I am," he smiled.

Sarah sat beside Sophie on the kitchen side of the counter, studying her. "I don't get it," she said. "You're so beautiful and regal and accomplished. Why would you ever be alone?"

Sophie breathed a sigh. "My lovely Sarah, I'm an independent, self made woman. Do you know what that means?"

"You're a success?"

"I'm a bitch."

"I don't see that at all."

Sophie faced the young woman, taking Sarah's long, lean, graceful hands into her long, lean elegant hands. "The minute I saw you, my mind computed what I could get from you. Dollar signs flickered across my eyes. I saw you getting a huge modeling contract and me getting a substantial finders fee. I didn't care what happens behind your lovely face, just the outside and the sexy shape below. Do you understand?"

"Hey, that's a good thing. I'm the one with the big contract supposedly. You're giving me a chance to make some dough."

"But I don't ... I didn't care what you got out of it."

"You do now?"

"Coffee's ready. Just a second."

Sarah watched the tall, lithe woman move around the apartment, leaning down to pour. She walked with perfect poise, but Sarah saw the stiffness when she leaned.

They began delicately slicing away at the slice of cheesecake. "Just coffee tomorrow," sighed Sophie.

"You're a narcissist, aren't you?" said Sarah. "I bet you were bulimic."

"Yes, my sweet, but I grew out of it. I'm careful now."

"But you're only careful for yourself."

"The mirror speaks: 'Who's the fairest.' Well, I'm not exactly fair. A quarter Negro."

Sarah glided her hand along Sophie's arm. "So soft," she murmured. Looking up into the deep brown eyes, she asked, "Have you been in love?"

"I ... just can't. I ... tried."

"How long ago?"

"None of your business, young lady!" Sophie stated with feigned anger and chuckled.

"I shouldn't say this because I am young," Sarah began, "but you wear your age with such elegance, it takes my breath away. I look into your eyes and I see something I won't see in me for years. Wisdom. Lessons learned. Paths to take. Paths to avoid. At the same time, just as beautiful because it's so deeply embedded inside your perfection, is a lonely soul waiting to be saved at last. It's like a blues song sung by a master. That child you hide just behind your eyes wants to nestle with another, to whisper all those things you wanted someone to hear and to hear those things another needs for you to hear. I'm too young. The child inside me's a fresh little brat. She hasn't suffered so long in hiding. She hasn't the depth of soul. It's a brash song she'd sing. Kind of whiny and too loud like some hard core punk thing."

The sad smile on the beauty's face made Sarah's heart palpitate, threatening to break. Eyes pooled and leaked a little.

"Oh Sarah, you lovely creature, this is the model for my life, the structure. I loved a man once, the only man I loved and the only man I let make love to me." She sniffled. "Let's have a couple snorts."

Rising, Sophie opened the cognac and poured out snifter glasses full, taking two to the couple on the couch who thanked her. When she returned to her seat, Sarah held a joint in her hand. "Want to smoke?"

"Sure."

"You guys want to smoke?" she asked the couple. Before they could answer she gave them another joint to share. "She gets horny when she smokes," Sarah winked at Elliot. "Or should I say hornier."

Melissa giggled and didn't deny it.

Returning to sit beside Sophie, lighting up, getting a decent toke and handing it to her, she giggled carefully as the smoke leaked out of her nose and mouth. "I thought you meant something else when you said 'snort'."

Holding the smoke in her lungs, it took a moment for Sophie to reply. "I got off that shit quick. Bad for the pores."

Sarah chuckled at the characteristic reason. "Me I can't stand the shit."

Sophie shrugged. "I liked it."

"Tell me about him."

"I had my reasons for pursuing the man. I wasn't much older than you. I had been modeling for I think five years. It got me out of a crappy home where my white mom was bitter and my half black dad was scarce. Unlike the stories you here from those who grew up poor; I knew how poor I was and wanted no part of it. I had an aunt here in New York who became my adult supervisor while I modeled. My mom's side of the family. She had a thing for young lesbians. Not incest, but maybe incest once removed. I dated her young girlfriends she got tired of, you know? Anyway, I got a bit sick of the work and started looking around for a sugar daddy.

"Stephan was a worldly sort, a self made millionaire from Austria. He was about my age now," she sighed. "He became an expatriate in New York thriving on the fashion scene and the models. I caught his eyes several times, but since I'm not straight ... Still, he kept eyeing me. We chatted and flirted at parties. I found him utterly charming. I like the European style of richness. Not nearly as pompous or self-righteous as the Americans, but very sure of themselves, very opinionated. I decided to find out how the other half lives, or the other nine-tenths I guess.

"I put my cards on the table. 'If you want me, it has to be old fashioned. You have to woo me. Take me on dates. Kiss me at the door. Take it slow.' I knew it wouldn't work otherwise.

"So he did. We became inseparable. My one concession for his wandering eye and for my needs, we often shared the bed with another model. Rarely was it the same one.

"I fell in love. We seemed to move to the same rhythm and think the same thoughts. We could break each other up or get into the most intense conversations. It was wonderful.

"Finally I asked him if he would consider me for a wife. I watched his reactions carefully. I didn't see him flinch. He agreed. We'd marry in Vienna so his family could attend. We spent a week celebrating, planning, engorging ourselves on our future.

"Then he was gone. One morning I wake up in his apartment, our apartment. He had stuff there, but his bags were gone. This was before cell phones but he had a satellite phone which he never answered. I called friends. Nobody had seen him or admitted to seeing him. I felt distraught, worried about him. I mean terrified. Then that evening I get a call from the fucking real estate guy that sold Stephen the fucking condo. He tells me I needed to visit his office the following morning to sign papers. I ask him what papers. 'Ownership papers, ' he says. Stephen paid off the mortgage and signed the condo over to me!" Sophie laughed hysterically.

Sarah hopped off her stool and found a glass and pressed it into the water dispenser on the fridge. "Drink this," she said.

"I'd rather drink champagne," said Sophie, choking a little.

"Later. Come on."

"Where?"

"To bed. You need a massage."

Calming down and drinking the water, Sophie said, "You're right."

Massage became a theme for the night and one way or another Sarah was involved. At a location uptown, in the hotel room, Marjorie massaged Naomi. Conversation led to it.

The mothers drank their champagne--picked up when the limo driving the group to their two locations stopped at a liquor store--and chatted about their offspring. As they drank through the champagne, its effect produced more daring conversation and more emotional reactions. Trouble with spouses brought both to tears. No sex for Naomi and abusive sex for Marjorie.

"You seem to have recovered from those two horrible nights," said Naomi.

"I thank my daughter's best friend for that. She seduced me and she led me to a gentle young man."

"How did she seduce you?" asked Naomi, wanting to be seduced.

"I'll show you. Take off your clothes."

"Uhm, I..."

"You're lovely, Naomi. It's just us ladies. Come sit on the bed. Let me help."

Kissing lips would have startled Naomi, so as flesh became revealed—heavy breasts and a chunky middle—Marjorie kissed the exposed flesh. Teasing around the more blatant erogenous zones, she slowly zeroed in on them. At first, less daring, she focused on the ears and the neck. But soon Marjorie held Naomi's sizable breasts and fingers slid across the wide circles of areola and the taut, thick nipples. When her mouth took hold of a nipple, Marjorie's hands released the button on Naomi's pants.

"You have a cute body, Naomi. It just needs some toning," Marjorie said when the panties came off. "Lie on your front."

Hoping for Sarah to give her one of those voluptuous massages, Marjorie brought almond oil on the trip. She quickly stripped to her panties and began working on the lush body of her new friend. Hands caressed past Naomi's sides to reach her breasts. Marjorie pressed her mons against Naomi's big butt. Essentially she copied the seductive massage Sarah had given her and taught her using Melissa as a model.

By the time she told Naomi to turn over, she had teased her into a frenzy of need. Naomi had gone without any loving for many, many years. They kissed for the first time on the lips. Pussy pressed against pussy as they fucked against each other. Not quite getting there, Marjorie grabbed her pink vibrator strategically placed for its moment. While shoving the vibrator in and out she kissed down Naomi's body and licked and finally tasted the woman's pussy. One suck and lap of Naomi's big clit as the vibrator buzzed inside and Naomi went off like a rocket, nectar streaming from her pussy as if a dam had broken. And indeed it had.

Marjorie eased off, gently stroking and kissing around Naomi's sex, hands sliding up to pinch thick nipples, until the sensitivity lessened. The climb to a second climax took several minutes. The results were intense in a different way. The orgasm lasted much longer.

Crawling up to embrace Naomi, she brought her her flavor and Naomi savored it. Several soft kisses developed into a lusty, tongue sharing slobbering.

Naomi rolled Marjorie onto her back and let fingers glide over the soft yet remarkably resilient flesh. "You're so beautiful," she told Marjorie, glancing up and down the female landscape. "I can see what a man wants with such beauty. And you feel wonderful."

"Uh," replied Marjorie as Naomi gently pulled and twisted her nipple. Normally uptight, the massage and the cums had given Naomi patience. She savored every bit of flesh below her, the taste and the texture. The sounds too, Marjorie's moans and sighs, pleased her senses. Nearly as exciting and satisfying as the orgasms Marjorie brought to her, pleasing this gorgeous woman thrilled her. When the moment came to taste another woman's sex, she didn't hesitate. She could hardly wait.

"Use the vibrator too," murmured Marjorie. Moving from lips and tongue on the clit with the vibrator stroking inside to the vibrator pressing the intensely responsive organ and sliding fingers as deep as possible and fucking Marjorie and rubbing her g-spot, when she clamped her mouth on the clit and sucked and Marjorie writhed and hummed and panted, she shoved the slender pink vibrator into Marjorie's rectum and fucked her.

Marjorie screamed, "Oh fuck." Her body shook. Her cunny lips puckered and seemed to hold and release Naomi's fingers. The fingers became soaked by the oily secretions pouring forth.

"Oh my, you clever bitch, come kiss me," said Marjorie when she could talk. After the kiss she asked the older woman, "What made you think to fuck my butt?"

"I fantasize about two men fucking my holes," Naomi explained.

"We'll make it happen."

"Have you..."

"Yes my lovely. And it's ... intense."

"How can you get me two men?"

"Remember my lovely Naomi, I'm a slut."

"Can I be one too?"

They giggled.

The final of the three massages may have been the most necessary.

After Sarah turned Sophie to jelly with her skilled hands, the sexual aspects kept minimal and in some ways more effective because of it, the two made love. The slow progress of building Sophie to orgasm produced in the end a convulsion of pleasure and afterwards, tears.

Sarah comforted the older woman, kissing the salty tears and petting her thick black hair.

'I'm sorry," said Sophie.

"It's okay. It's good. You hold too much in."

Sophie sniffled and smiled. "I do. Maybe it's why I avoid getting too close. I have to protect my fragile self."

"You're not so fragile. You're a tough bitch, remember? You're strong enough to let go now and then and rebuild."

"I don't know."

"I do. I've met women, one's in the next room, who needed a catharsis to become whole again."

"I don't trust anyone with my weakness."

"Oh Sophie. I wish you would."

Sophie looked lovingly into the young woman's eyes, losing herself in their deep blue, plunging in as if they held a deep pool that reflected a deep blue sky. "You're lovely," she said.

"You are too."

"I'm all hard angles except my tits. They hang like popped balloons."

"They're fun to play with," said Sarah, sucking one into her mouth and slowly letting it out.

"Ooh. That's nice."

Sarah did the other one.

"You're too good to me."

"I like you."

"I ... You're so fucking young!"

"I can't help that."

They chuckled.

"You love Melissa," Sophie stated.

"Yes. Completely."

"So I..."

"I'm not all that needy," Sarah explained. "I mean, I love being with a woman, but I can do without sex for awhile. Melissa's a sexual creature. She loves sex. It brings her joy, both for herself and maybe more importantly for her mate. We haven't been together for months, and in that time she must have slept with a dozen men, boys really. She told me about every one of them. Every once in a while I feel a pang of jealousy, but most of the time I celebrate her joy. She brought me happiness, and she brings her partners happiness. Ours is different though. It's like a unity of mind and body. She makes me feel whole and I make her feel whole. I guess what I'm saying is, I have a lover. I am in love. But we don't keep each other on some kind of tether. We don't tie each other up in expectations or demands. We let each other be whatever we are. Not that we don't suggest improvements." Sarah chuckled to herself. "I can be Melissa's other, her true love or whatever, and I can be your friend, however that pans out."

"I'm not all that sexual either," Sophie shrugged. "Although the way you made me cum, I may rethink that." They giggled. They stared deeply. Sophie turned Sarah onto her back and began making love to her. "Your turn," she said.

The door opened and Melissa entered naked, concern damping the effect of her smile. "Sorry to interrupt but I need your help, Sarah."

"What's wrong?" asked Sarah.

Melissa's smile broadened. "Nothing you can't fix. I'm sorry, Sophie, but it's kind of important."

Reluctantly Sophie eased her body off Sarah. They gave themselves one last stare. Sophie kissed her forehead and her lips, softly. "Another time?" she asked.

"I'd like that," Sarah smiled and kissed her. She got up and went for her panties.

"No need for that," said Melissa.

"I should go," said Sophie, getting up and getting dressed.

"Oh. It was great meeting you," said Melissa. "I'm sorry about barging in."

"I forgive you," Sophie replied with a genuine smile. The evening brought it to her. "Do you mind if I leave my card on the counter?" She looked to both young women for reply.

"Your cell phone's on it?" asked Sarah.

"Unh-hunh."

"I'll call you tomorrow and leave you my number."

"We have a lot to talk about young lady." Sophie sounded mockingly business like.

"I know," smiled Sarah. "I'm looking forward to working with you."

"And playing."

"That too." They kissed briefly and Sophie sighed when she watched the extraordinary young woman walk out the door.

As soon as Sarah closed the door the two lovers embraced and kissed. When the kiss ended they whispered, "I love you," into each other's ear.

"What's up?' Sarah finally asked, holding both hands of her lover.

Melissa leaned in to whisper, "Elliot's having a hard time being heterosexual." She released one hand and led Sarah with the other into the master bedroom.

Sitting naked on the end of the bed, his hands rubbing his knees, the pale, soft torso tilted low, Elliot looked up with a tense face and an embarrassed smile. "Oh hi," he said to Sarah.

"Hey Elliot," Sarah smiled.

"I'm going to go pop the cork. Elliot needs a massage," Melissa let go of Sarah's hand and walked out.

"I do?" he asked to the departing back of Melissa.

"I'll go grab some oil."

"I have some in the bathroom," he replied, standing up.

"You just lie down on your belly. Tell me where it is."

"It should be in the right hand bottom drawer of the first sink."

"Be right back," she smiled.

In the bathroom she startled Sophie taking a piss. "I guess we're getting real intimate," she smiled.

Sophie's genuine smile returned. "Guess so."

"I just need ... Here. See you soon, Sophie."

"I hope so."

"Me too." Sarah exited.

Sophie sighed. "So lovely."

Setting the oil down on the bedside table, Sarah asked, "Any massage music?"

"Bring me the laptop on the desk," Elliot answered. Sitting up cross legged, a familiar position reminding her of Melissa, making Sarah smile, he opened it and his fingers danced on the keyboard.

Sarah wrapped her body around him and watched. He brought up a program that mapped his multi media set up. A menu listed several music files. He clicked on "Massage." A serene sound emerged from speakers all around the room: delicate plucking of strings, guitar maybe, but it could have been a harp. Beach sounds, quiet waves and sea gulls cawing could be heard beneath the strings. He adjusted the volume to a pleasant setting. When he shut the laptop, she returned it to the desk. He lay on his front again.

"Nice set up," said Sarah, spurting oil into her hand from the plastic squeeze bottle and rubbing hands together to warm the oil.

"It's nice being able to afford luxury."

"No doubt." She began working his neck and the back of his head. "You've had massages before."

"Another perk. There's this ... agency."

She could feel him tense up. "Shh," she said. "You shouldn't talk. Just concentrate on my hands."