Chapter 17

As the constructive confrontation with Betty wound down, I was glad that Carol's apartment, with its recent expansion on its floor, had plenty of guest space. It scares me to think of it, but this place may be reminding me of Heinlein's Nest in Stranger in a Strange Land -- at least in the sense that people are absolutely open about sex.

Art, Cathy, and Edie had adjourned from the literal love seat of the living room to a comfortable bedroom, where, I hoped, they'd pace themselves. Clearly, Art would need rest. While his predicament would appeal to a great many men, it really did encourage me to think about the sort of men that we'd want in our extended family. It occurred to me that Betty and Aimee were married. I did want to understand how their husbands fit.

Betty, Carol, and I had agreed on a DC steakhouse, one that was considered both discreet but also one for the power elite. Carol, with her exercise level and metabolism, wasn't afraid to eat. I suspected that Betty, due to age, might have to exercise more and be more day-to-day careful with her diet, but I expected both to be trying to be the dominant carnivorous lioness of the pride. Even in DC, on the way to our secluded table, we drew looks. Some probably were for me, as in "how does that kid get not only two beauties, but two elegant beauties?" Could I have gotten away with saying "Don't mind me, I'm the lion."

For their confrontation, Abie and Betty had worn identical outfits. I was amused that in their preparations for establishing status, Carol and Betty also independently chose very similar outfits. Both could have been Ladies Who Lunch, although with a bit more edgy style. Over the heavy off-white silk blouses were single strings of pearls. Each wore a black leather wrap skirt, its hem slightly above the knee. Their hose differed in tone, but understandably given their different coloring. Each finished with black, softly shined knee boots of a moderate stiletto heel.

Closer examination showed torso movement making it unlikely that either was wearing a bra. Betty's bustline was considerably larger, but Carol still was substantial. Both blouses were tailored to emphasize slim waists.

I knew the menu here, and wasn't surprised with what they ordered. All three of us had shrimp cocktails to start, but both of them had steak tatare. It was a demonstration of my sexual self-confidence that I went ahead and ordered a well-done end cut of roast beef, without fear of criticism by the two cats. If the estrogen flowed too freely, I could get the feline consultants to suggest that the women run down and kill a mouse.

Decorous eating was put aside as the shrimp arrived. Bold red lips surrounded the white shrimp meat, marking it before it slid between Carol's and Betty's teeth. Their gleaming teeth snapped what would have been a death bite. When I was in Japan, one of my rules was that the food had to be dead, but I wasn't sure that these two would insist on that.

Their steaks arrived. It was the Danish style, with raw egg, horseradish, and raw onion rings. That made me comfortable with slathering my roast beef with horseradish, not worrying about what aromas might be on my breath later.

I am woman, hear me chew.

Was it surprising that they both ordered chocolate dipped fresh strawberries, and then ate them at me?

At the apartment, things started well with a group hug. We shared a bit of three-way kissing, licking one another's tongues. Betty laughed, turned to face Carol squarely, and gave her what was clearly a searing kiss. As Carol caught her breath, I quickly realized, as Betty probed my mouth, why she was known for kissing.

She began to unbutton her blouse, revealing breasts even larger and more perfectly formed the outline under her blouse had suggested. Of course, I had seen her naked, but that had been at stage distance. While I've never been fixated on breasts, I was compelled to reach out and touch. Their skin was warm, but as soon as my fingers applied pressure, they felt as hard as stone. These were not modern implants.

"Curt, listen to my instructions. My breasts still can be objects of pleasure. I've had to learn the appropriate techniques. Put your hand underneath and lift rather than squeeze."

That did feel very, very nice. The weight forced the hot skin into my hands. Carol stood, opening her own blouse. Her breasts were smaller, but still full, and, as I knew, naturally soft yet springy. She knelt before Betty, lowered her head to her, and blew hot breath onto the larger breasts. Next, she delivered long licks, from upper chest to nipple. Carol seemed careful to lick the nipples rather than the more conventional sucking, or even swirling her tongue around the nipple. My love had her unique talents, although Betty was supremely confident.

I paused to remove my shirt. The two women looked at one another, stopped, turned to me, tongued my nipples, and then put a lipstick ring around each. Taking back a bit of initiative, I slipped a hand inside each of the skirts, through the wrap, feeling firm stockinged legs. Betty wore gartered hose while Carol had thigh-highs. Neither, I discovered, wore panties.

Betty pulled Carol to her, and pushed her face between Carol's breasts. She bit gently at their insides, and then kissed and licked downward. The two cooperated in releasing Carol's skirt. Soon, Betty was licking downwards to the top of Carol's bush, and lapping her clit. With one arm, she guided Carol onto the bed, and pushed her gently onto her back. Betty reached down and freed her own skirt. Both women kept on their stockings and boots.

On her hands and knees over Carol, I became aware that Betty had a truly exceptional bubble butt. None of us were in a mood for romance or shy gestures, so I simply dropped behind Betty and ran my tongue between the cheeks of her ass. I tasted chocolate. Centering my tongue, I licked briefly, and then drove it as deeply as I could. Betty gasped and growled, "I absolutely love anal sex. It's mostly for my personal excitement. Lube up and just go ahead and fuck it. I can take it hard."

I wasn't going to decline. Soon, I was sliding into her. In addition to the hot wet grasp of her internally, I was aware of her firm, springy ass hitting my thighs.

Afterwards, Carol pulled Betty onto her. "Just relax. I'm strong enough to hold you. Betty, you've always been beautiful, but right now, you have an incredible glow." Carol slid a thigh between Betty's, easily lifting her weight, and began grinding against her as they began to kiss. Betty responded, rubbing her mound against Carol's much stronger leg.

They writhed, until Carol slipped her hands around Betty's hips, and slid several fingers into her still-relaxed asshole. Betty's scream did not match her usual self-control, and, indeed, she slumped in what might have been a faint. I moved to catch her.

Betty soon regained her senses, but with an unearthly calm on her lovely face. Carol smiled at her. "When we're all ready, I want to take you to the hot tub and see you relax. I've never seen that side of you."

"Curt, when you catch your breath, start the water and such." As I rested, I explored Betty's buttocks. As opposed to her breasts, they were natural, but with an incredible high shape. Carol's were as attractive to me, but in a different way. Betty's body was that of a sculpture come to life, while Carol's was that of an incredibly vibrant woman.

After Betty left, we were still in robes. Carol giggled. "That was hard work, but it earned us some time for just you and me? We haven't done any history for God knows how long. I wonder if we could get some of our work under 4S? Of course, we need our food, sex, and exercise.

We went back to the tub, with munchies and feline supervision. I pulled Carol onto my lap, and sighed happily. "Betty surprised me in how much she opened up, but you're incomparably more real than she. Maybe it's an honor to science fiction to say that she reminds me of the Mercedes-quality fembot."

"Curt, dear, don't struggle too hard to avoid saying she has some damn fine physical attributes. Flip it around. What if I got turned on to some super bodybuilder? Neither one of us worries about physical exclusivity. If someone were to compete with me for your love, it wouldn't be Betty. Am I worried about Marie? No.

"I'm sure most people immediately notice her boobs. I also noticed that she has an incredible ass, and that's all natural. Her ass is different than mine. I'm an athlete. She's not. Her boobs are different than mine but I enjoyed playing with them. Yes, you could get a full thrust in fucking her boobs, but mine are big enough if you angle a bit. Where's the problem?"

I laughed. "No, I guess there isn't any problem. Thanks, love."

She leaned against me and made a happy noise. "I feel wonderful. Relaxed, but getting energized. Speaking of energized, we haven't talked history in a while. But is there anything wrong with two sexy people discussing it in a hot tub?

"My love, only you and I do something like that. In the nicest possible way, we're weird."

"Are you sure about that? There are some very fine minds among the other girls. Maybe, though, they'd also need a primary relationship for that.

"Here's my question, though, for thought. What is it about France that they have brilliant people at the tactical and operational level, but either they appoint bad strategists or competent generals go bad? In the Indochina of the late forties, they even had some potentially fine strategists and negotiators. I'm thinking Sainteny and LeClerc. Who did they put in command? d'Argenlieu Right. An admiral and Carmelite father for a land war with Communists and Buddhists.

"Ho Chi Minh had his own agenda, but might have dealt. The French couldn't let go, and then, between d'Argenlieu and Valluy, they pulled a shooting war out of a cease-fire.