Chapter 7: Immoral support

Carol’s apartment, Thursday night

Again, it had been a long, long day. We had called ahead, hoping that Melody was free for a late supper, and she was. She suggested she bring Tana for immoral support. “Tana’s ahead of me on the kinky MBA path.” We assumed they would help one another get ready.

We ordered from the building kitchen. The concierge asked how much warning the kitchen could get about when the food needed to be ready. Ten minutes seemed to suit them. They said they would send some things to prepare.

When the service dumbwaiter chimed, we took out plates and silverware, including fondue forks, and the heaters and stands of two fondue pots. They also included a set of candles for the table, baskets of interesting bread chunks, and an assortment of fruit. There was a little tent card that said (will be replaced with cat treats). Clearly, they had the priorities straight.

Carol and I eagerly looked at the door when the bell rang. Tana, we were confident, would look extremely good, although not ultra-high-fashion and not utter slut. We had no idea what Carol would do, especially with Tana as a sounding board.

Tana wore one of the stretch dresses that she liked, although dark green rather than fuchsia. I’d have to say that the length was micro rather than mini. She wore impressively high black pumps, higher than most women would wear outside the bedroom or orgy room. It occurred to me that I was being overly analytical when I realized that besides her huge and well-formed breasts, she was actually quite slender and, while not as skinny as Ally McBeal, could wear Ally’s sort of micro.

It was obvious that Melody had gone to our stylists. Her skin was a golden tan, which I assumed, given that she was pale this morning, was sprayed on. However done, it looked damn good. Her lips were bright red, and she had significant eye makeup that brought out her pale blue eyes. I realized that her past color choices had made her fade into the background, for no good reason. Her hair also had changed, from an almost white to a new, attractive, deeper blonde shade. As a guy, I couldn’t put a name to the color.

She was impressive in the way she flaunted and complemented her heavier build. Her skirt was still definitely mini, but she forced the eye to look at the thighs she exhibited. They glowed with shiny hose, pearl gray against her light blue dress and knee boots. Her blouse was open just enough to show a bit of pearl gray bra, drawing the eye to her cleavage but not showing more of her breasts. I wondered if she had taken color advice from Nancy. If you ignored that Nancy was more than a head shorter, the two women resembled another somewhat, in coloration and breast size.

Tana and Melody were grinning. Carol and I reminded ourselves that we were trusted for the two to be here. Tana could be incredible in a private party but was somewhat shy on a day-to-day basis. While Melody presented a more outrageous persona, she had shared, through Nancy, that she was unsure of herself.

We brought our guests to the dinner table, where we lit the flames below the cheese and chocolate fondue pots. “It’s take about 10 minutes, I’m guessing, before things are at serving temperature. Why don’t we sit down, have some drinks or snacks, and I’ll stir the pots?”

“First, though, we have a priority.” Carol raised her voice. “Bruja? Brussja?”

“Mrrp. Rowr rowr rowr.”

“Is that so, Brussja? Have you two agreed to have the Russian cat faction dominate the Siamese?”

“Mm. mmr.”

“Well, I won’t interfere with your domestic relations.” She handed little packages to Carol and Tana. “Our guests have shrimpies and chicken for you.” That was fully understood, and everything else stopped until two cats felt properly honored.

Carol looked into the fondue and stirred it. She slid her chair back. “There is chocolate warming on the table, but more to the point, look at me.” Her short wrap skirt was dark brown leather, over warm cocoa colored hose. Her thick silk blouse was perhaps a white chocolate off-white, covered with a vest matching her skirt. Carol stood and put one foot on a chair. “Leg flaunting time. Anyone want to stroke? Want to guess if I’m wearing panties? Melody, I do have naughty thoughts about your legs. Tara, remember what you and I learned to do with legs?”

“Oh yes, Carol. I’ll just flaunt myself and encourage Melody to do the same. That wonderful thing that we did only works in bed or a couch.” Tana drew her fingers up her slim, elegant legs. They were bare, but her pale Irish skin had a slight tan.

I delighted in what I watched, and assumed, since the women were all bi, they were having similar enjoyments. Carol’s legs were thicker than Tana’s, but obviously muscular. I’d call Melody’s “full”, but not out of proportion. They definitely looked like a great target to be held together and fucked, or to be between mine as she lay face down and I took her from the rear.

The other two women licked their lips in anticipation, but then Carol said, “OK, let’s eat. Nothing heavy, but we need something for exercise.” She prepared a chocolate-covered strawberry and, with a perfectly controlled fondue fork, put it into Melody’s mouth. In the spirit of the exercise, Melody managed considerable yet attractive lip and tongue movements. Tana had looked at the fruits for a moment, and then gotten a full sized banana from the kitchen, going down on it.

“I’m the guy. I’m going to have some cheese.” The beauties looked at one another and realized that they had gotten the courses in the wrong order. No matter. We snacked for 10 or 15 minutes, wiped our lips, nodded, and went to the bedroom.

Approaching the bed, Melody moved forward, and got onto her hands and knees from the side. Her ass was delightfully presented, as well as her long thighs. Carol and Tana sank to their knees, and began to rub Melody’s legs, using faces, hands, and breasts. Still standing, I began to fondle the cheeks of her ass, caressing, massaging, kneading. I exchanged glances with the two of them, and we communicated, without words, that we were going to excite every part of Melody except her breasts. Our message is that she was far more than a walking pair of boobs.

“Want to sleep together?” Carol grinned, and Melody and Tana happily agreed. “Let’s get organized, then. Oh, I don’t know how we’ll wind up by morning, but Curt, get on one side of Melody. I’m going to get on her other side. Tana, since you’ve already played with Melody a bit, why don’t you get on the other side of Curt?” That seemed nice and friendly to us all. Before getting in bed, Carol put on some gentle music.

Carol’s bed, Friday morning

I was asleep, until a tongue became insistent. It happened to be a wet, rough, Siamese one. Looking around briefly, the other humans were still asleep. The felines, however, were being very affectionate, head-bumping and grooming. I recognized it as genuine caring, not yet a demand for food.

Without waking anyone else, I managed to slide to the foot of the bed and to my feet. Going to the kitchen, I had two followers, who had concluded “as long as he is awake, he can feed us.” In the kitchen, I gave them treats, and started the coffee brewing. From the refrigerator, I took packages of cinnamon roll and biscuit dough, and slipped them into the oven if only for the aroma. After a few minutes, the aroma summoned the humans.

I’m not a breast fetishist, but when the three came out of the bedroom, I stopped, with my mouth open. Carol not only has an extensive wardrobe for herself, erotic and otherwise, but keeps a stock of erotic wear in other sizes. In this case, each wore a skirt and heels, but also some sort of demi-bra to display, not hide, their breasts. Carol laughed at me and said “Last night, we deemphasized Melody’s boobs. Today, we’re showing off everyone’s chest, to get her back to a whole-body model. We’ll depend on you for tit-fucking.”

Tana told us that she had to go to Nancy’s office. “Yesterday’s expedition to Dream Dresser was really good. Wanda, Nathan, and I need to go over it with Nancy.”

Mid-day, Nancy’s office

A grinning Wanda came into Nancy’s realm, with an equally happy Tana and Nathan. Rather than her usual leotard, stretch jeans, and sneakers, she wore a dress and moccasins. Walking to the parallel bars in Nathan’s physical therapy area, she walked easily between them. At the end, she sat for a moment, changed into high heels, stood, and walked the length of the bars, with stability and without apparent pain.

“That corset is wonderful! My back doesn’t hurt, even with heels.

She gave a wicked grin. “It’s also a hell of a lot more interesting than bodysuits.” She slipped out of the dress, to stand proudly in black corset with garters holding up black stockings.

Nathan roared with laughter. “I’m going to appreciate that both as a physical therapist and a man who knows you don’t mind respectful lechery, especially in front of his Significant Other. Back to my PT hat, though, Wanda, don’t overdo it at first. Keep coming for some flexibility and strength work. You may have originally hurt your back because some of the stabilizing muscles were weak -- let’s get them strengthened. I don’t want you to take off the corset and collapse.”

“As your doctor, Wanda, I have to agree with Nathan’s warnings. As his and your playmate, I wouldn’t mind watching him check the fit of your stockings, carefully, sensually ... and then being sure you’ve properly fitted panties -- or the lack of them -- to the corset.”

Wanda looked at Nancy. “What, the doctor won’t stoop to checking herself? I think both of you need to check the bottom equipment on the corset. Tana, you can probably come up with some financial reason to explore the corset. Look for the price tag or something.”

Heads nodded, and Wanda stretched out on the treatment table. In this context, it became the treat table. Tana and Nancy both lifted a leg and stroked, sensually, approving of the stocking. Nathan knelt and buried his face in Wanda’s crotch. She pulled his face close and started to moan. While it wasn’t a standard physical therapy technique, he was quite adept at testing reflexes with his tongue. Yes, reflexes, that’s what they were.

The examination ended with a yell, but not one of pain. A bit later, a very happy Wanda paused just before putting her dress back on. “I don’t know if all of you know it, but I used to be a dancer, and yes, I liked being admired on stage. When I couldn’t wear heels because they made my back hurt, I stopped, and when I started working as a waitress, I went to tight pants. My legs are the best part of my figure, and I regretted not being able to show them off. Thanks for letting me do that again.