Chapter 5: Tana the Transformer

Art is magic ... But how is it magic? In its metaphysical development? Or does some final transformation culminate in a magic reality? In truth, the latter is impossible without the former. If creation is not magic, the outcome cannot be magic.

Hans Hofmann

The door of Germaine’s bedroom opened, and I heard the clicking of two pairs of heels. When Germaine and Tana came in, my mouth dropped open, to the laughter of Lucy and Germaine. Gone was the pale blue accountant with the slight highlight. I could only mutter, “Jessica Rabbit”. Tana did a very fine job in making that caricature real.

Her hair was now a cascade of flaming red, to the middle of her back. She wore a silky, bright red, Spandex mini, deeply cut and laced in the front, exposing a very deep, but apparently shapely, cleavage. Side slits and a biased hem revealed gartered off-black stockings, her long legs shod in black and red Louboutins.

She fluttered her boldly outlined eyes, probably with false lashes but certainly with heavy mascara. “Did someone call for a boring Certified Public Accountant and attorney with a master’s in taxation?”

“Specializing in sin tax, perhaps?” I wondered.

Gigi looked at Tana. “Would the Redhead Liberation Front convene and get me into equivalent makeup?”

“Of course, dear!”

Gigi muttered, “Why do I have to be straight?”

“Seriously, Gigi, I embrace transformation.”

We didn’t need Gigi’s culinary magic to start getting packages from the in-house caterer and setting up a buffet. Lucy told us, “Just be sure to have the appropriate dishes and serving stuff, or ask them to do it. You might need a side table, Germaine, but the caterer can take care of this. If we are serious about community, though, there are empty apartments that we can set up as common areas--including a big hot tub room.”

“OK, Germaine, you proved that Lucy is hot as well as competent. Trade seats with your boss.” Germaine laughed, and Lucy wiggled onto my lap. Quickly, I found that she wasn’t wearing hose, but just had smooth tanned legs.

Lucy wiggled her back against me, warmly. “Howard, my undergraduate degree is from Smith. We tended to fall into one of two categories, Lesbian Until Graduation, and “let’s see if we’re sexually compatible, and, if so, see what we have to talk about.” I was not one of the lesbians.” She stretched her neck and nuzzled her cheek against mine. “I noticed, and appreciated, your admiring my legs. Do take this opportunity to feel them.”

Lucy whispered, “Howard, let’s get private for a little while. I want to get to know you better on several levels. Tell me, what do you see in me? That’s deliberately vague.” We went to the spare bedroom and sat on the couch.

“Fair enough. On the intellectual side, I immediately assume great power, from the respect shown to you by Germaine. It wouldn’t be inaccurate to include great affection and even love, professional and personal.

“Physically, you’re a damn hot woman, somewhat older than I am, but a matter of zero concern. I’d guess you are old enough to be my big sister, but, at worst, you’d have to have had me very young to be my mommy. Physically, you are damned hot, with an excellent choice of clothes to be provocative in the day.

“I’m trying to figure out how to describe one aspect of you, and I’m just going to free-associate. The words hard and tough pop into my mind, but not in any derogatory way. I’m not particularly into power exchange, but I sense that you can play as a fairly strong submissive or a fairly strong dominant, but you need neither. Soon, I hope, we will share some kissing, which with you, I suspect, that’s going to be exceptionally intense, hands roving to support mouths. I have other nice physical perceptions, and am developing mental images -- that’s more specific, more operational, more intentional than fantasies.”

“Very astute. Perhaps a bit of vanity, but I’ll ask you not to look me up, at least for the specific purpose of learning my age. I’ll just say that I’m older than you think. If you happen to find out the dates through legal research or the like, I won’t be offended.

“But yes. Other than some roleplaying once in a while, the power exchanges of BDSM don’t really interest me. That isn’t to say that I don’t like being a powerful person, or, if I feel safe in doing so, letting a powerful person to do things to me. There have been times when I’ve been seriously sick or injured, and it was a challenge to let go and accept someone would take care of me and I could release some control. I’ve learned lessons. Now, let’s be powerful with each other. I intimidate lots of potential playmates, men and women. I don’t get that I intimidate you.”

She turned to me, put a hand behind my head, and pulled me to her for what indeed was an intense first kiss. Her hand pulled me hard against her mouth, and, as soon as she did, her tongue darted against mine while her lips sucked on mine. As I responded orally, one hand on her head, I dropped the other one to her leg and started the exploration that I had wanted to do since I first saw her. Lucy’s thighs were sleek, muscled, and quite warm. She purred.

Standing, I lifted her in my arms, kissed her forehead and hair, walked to the bed, and put her on it, face down. Kneeling beside her, I pulled her skirt to her hips, confirming there was nothing under it. Opening my pants quickly, then removing them completely, reflecting on what I wanted to do. I straddled her, bending to kiss her head and down her back. Sliding a hand underneath, I found her getting quite wet, and played with her to encourage that. My free hand slid under her top, and cupped some very nice breasts. While I would need to look more closely, I had the impression of superb implants that stayed soft to the touch. She whispered, first in a calm, logical voice, “Yes, Howard. Do me hard like that for now.” Her voice changed, and she chanted, “Do me! Do me!”

Without unneeded preliminaries, judged from the way her hips pressed against my hand, I slid into her pussy, lowering myself gently, and then, to create one of my favorite positions, pressed her legs together so I felt them between mine. Judging on her sounds and movement, my cock, as I indeed had hoped, was rubbing her G-spot from the rear entry position.

“Turnabout is fair play. Now, sit on my face.” I reached for a towel that Germaine kept conveniently stacked beside the bed, and slipped them under my head. “Incidentally, I am not at all squicked by happy bodily fluids, be they urine, whatever it is that one squirts, or semen.”

She laughed. “But my bladder is empty. Like you, I don’t know what the squirt fluid is, but it’s not urine and I like it. I take your point, though, as something where we can share the more outrageous of acts, celebrating kink. Speaking of points, did I address your concerns about making it very clear that I welcomed playing with you? I wondered if that was her courtroom voice.

“Absolutely. That is the sort of thing I need, but all too often have to infer, or I avoid it.”

It was an odd gesture, but it was very comforting to have her reach out and pat me on the shoulder. “I’m really happy about that. Should we manage to put together a polyamorous household, that sort of consent should be strong with all of us, as well as a perfectly acceptable ‘not right now’. Now, I think, I’m going to switch modes.” Her voice changed to a growl. “Lie back as I rub myself on your face, first for my pleasure, and then what you get from it.” The naughtiness, not the suggested dominance, was immensely attractive. It was also very sensual just to feel her shaven mound against my face, even before I began to lap at her dripping nectar.

Afterwards, Lucy observed “While I really am not part of the BDSM lifestyle crowd, many of them make a point of frequently restating relationships, ground rules, things like that. My impression would be that sort of thing, even without BDSM, but with such things as making contact at all, works for you.”

“Oh yes. It’s something that appeals to me about Japanese manners, where people say “I am about to start eating” or “I am home” that seems a lubricant to communications.”

With an evil laugh, Lucy commented, “I like lubricants, at least natural, or nicely flavored. What I’d like next, sexually, is for you to do me in the ass, face down like before. We can wait until we have a chance to talk. Would it turn you on to have someone else involved in the scene? Hm. Maybe I could eat Tana?” My cock twitched at that. “I’d also like some double or triple penetration, but we can’t do it in that position. We also need a couple of more participants, either male or someone adept with a strap-on.”

I quivered a little, thinking of a conversation with Germaine. “Lucy, you sound very experienced. Have you pegged a guy while wearing a strap-on? Germaine and I were talking about that but felt we needed an instructor. Like you and I have said, there’s no implied dominance or degradation.”

“Oh sure! I’d love to help. Again, hm. Maybe I should kiss your ass before we go back, again keeping it sensual without humiliation. Yeah, I like that. You sit on my face and watch me play with myself while I lick you. Just give me a couple of minutes to give your butt a rather sensual wash. It’s no accident that almost every apartment has a bidet, and those that don’t will be getting them. Mostly, they are advanced Japanese ones that even dry you.”

“How can I turn down an invitation like that?”

She took my hand and escorted me to the bathroom. “Might as well make it mutual. You do me first, since your tongue will be in me. That’ll give me an opportunity to check you out on the bidet controls, which the Japanese can make complex.” She sat down and showed me how to apply the spray to her, rub with a cloth, and then use the air dryer. “Now, over here, I’ve got an assortment of flavored lubricants. Since we’re not planning to penetrate one another this time, we don’t need much, but I like to use a little flavoring in back. Vaginas mostly taste fine au naturel. Do I look chocolate mint today?”

“Sounds good. What about me?”

“Lime, I think.” Her cleansing was sensual pleasure even if not a prerequisite to anything else. The idea of what would happen next, however, was even more exciting.

“Lie down, Howard. Let me pose a little.” She put on some six-inch stilettoes, carefully rotating at the bedside as they made sculpture of her legs and hips. With a delightfully nasty laugh -- I could see why she had a grab handle on the headboard -- she raised one leg and rested the heel on the bed, turning to be sure I got a great view of her thigh to shaven crotch. With that, she knelt over me. “See my slut shoes?”