The Severance Package

A Short Story by J. K. Ermon (jokermon)

This is a work of erotic fantasy fiction for the entertainment of adults only. Everything in this story is imaginary and is not meant to represent any real-life people, events, or medical conditions. It contains explicit futanari (hermaphrodite) content. If that's not your thing, or if reading this type of material is unlawful where you reside, don't read it. All characters in sexual situations are 18 years of age or older, even if it seems otherwise for dramatic or narrative purposes. Please enjoy this story responsibly and do not repost without permission. This story is copyright©2024 J. K. Ermon.

~~~

It was pouring rain in Philadelphia. Concordia Baxter sat on the bench by the bus stop and wept.

She didn't have an umbrella. Her boss's son had just tried to rape her and she broke it over his head. That was why she was sitting umbrella-less in the rain at 9:34 AM on a Thursday. She no longer had a job.

She could see her reflection in a big puddle at her feet. A sturdily-built thirtyish black woman with a coffee-and-half-a-cream complexion, strong cheekbones, and a fine full mouth looked back despondently. There was a discarded section of newspaper soaking into the pavement by the puddle, and it revealed the date: Thursday, May 24, 1956.

Up until just after 9:00 AM, she had worked as a maid for one of the city's top bankers. She was barely inside the servants' entrance, just bending over to put on her soft-soled work shoes, when the boy grabbed her from behind.

She knew immediately what was happening. She'd never had to deal with the son while she worked at the old man's office, but when the business moved, he transferred her to his home staff. She'd been warned by the other maids. The banker's son did this with almost every woman who worked in his father's house. He would attack from behind and narrate each act in a sing-song voice: "Up with the skirt... down with the panties... in with the dick!"

He never got past up with the skirt. Concordia (Connie to her friends) immediately snatched up her umbrella, reversed it like she was about to commit hari-kari, and jabbed it under her arm into his midsection.

"Ow!" He reeled back, crying out in a shocked and surprisingly hurt voice. It was a why'd ya do that kind of voice. The steel tip of her umbrella was blunt and didn't skewer him (not that he didn't deserve it), but would definitely leave a nasty bruise. She turned to face him. He was clutching his diaphragm and staring at her like she'd done something unimaginably mean. He was twenty-four, but looked like a little boy who'd just had an ice cream cone slapped out of his hand.

She gripped her umbrella like a Louisville Slugger, instinctively dropping into the batter's stance she learned playing college softball.

"You just walk away and behave now, Mr. Lowe. I won't tell your daddy nothing."

It's anything, woman, her inner voice scolded her, and you damn well know that. You have an English degree from Storer!

It made no difference. Whenever she got emotional, especially in a confrontation with a white person, her grandmother's Deep South dialect was always the first thing to leap out of her mouth.

As she watched, the younger Mr. Lowe went from surprised to sullen to belligerent at astonishing speed. He stepped towards her with an unpleasant gleam in his eye. Connie didn't hesitate. She whacked him in the skull.

"Ow!" he cried out again, staggering and clutching his head. It was a stout umbrella with an oak core, built to last. Also, Connie had been scrubbing toilets for a decade. She had a strong arm.

"I mean it, Mr. Lowe," she said. "Let's just you and me call it a day, now."

Real rage came into his face. "Oh, you're gonna get it now."

She whacked him again, this time hard enough to break her umbrella over his cranium and lay him out flat on the floor. He groaned in pain.

At that moment (the worst possible moment), his father walked in the rear entry hall.

"What on earth is all this racket?" He stopped and stared. "Junior?"

The young man was struggling to his feet.

"Sir," Connie said, "your son tried to assault me."

"That's a lie!" he yelped. "That crazy jig hauled off and hit me for no reason!"

"Mr. Lowe," she said, addressing the senior with as much dignity as she could muster, "I have been working for you for ten years. Have you ever known me to hit anybody?"

She saw a look come over his face then, a look she recognized. It was look she had worn herself on occasion: not another damn mess to clean up.

The old man believed her. But there was no way he was taking her side. Her heart sank.

"You," he said to his son. "Go to my study. I'll deal with you presently."

"But..."

"Go!"

With a sulky glance at Connie, he went.

Lowe Senior turned to Connie and cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Mr. Lowe," she said, despising the pleading note in her voice, "Please. I need this job..."

"Your severance will be more than fair," he cut her off. "I will also gladly write you a letter of reference. Provided..."

Anger filled her.

"Provided I keep my mouth shut."

He looked pained. "I... see no reason to get the police involved..."

He let the sentence trail off. He wasn't worried about Connie going to the police. He was threatening to put the police on her. They both knew the Philadelphia PD would lock her up in a heartbeat. Her jaw tightened.

The severance and recommendation were the carrot. Law enforcement was the stick. Her anger boiled over.

"You and your son can both go to hell, Mr. Lowe," she spat, and stormed out into the rain. She left her broken umbrella there on the floor.

~~~

Oh you really fixed yourself good this time, Concordia. She snuffled. How are you going to get another job after this?

That was when the young white girl sat down next to her.

"You poor thing," the girl said. She was holding an umbrella and she lifted it over both their heads. "You're soaking."

"I..." Connie didn't know what to say. This out-of-the-blue appearance and kindness threw her for a loop. "Thank you."

It was good to have a break from the downpour and to hear a sympathetic voice, even if it was from this odd-looking thing. The girl had straw-blonde hair pulled back in a long, braided ponytail and big black-framed glasses on a horsey kind of face. Her clothes were bulky and nondescript. There was a big waterproof duffel sitting next to her.

"You're shivering," the girl said. "Here."

She pulled a steel hip flask from one the many pockets of her voluminous coat.

"No, thank you," said Connie automatically.

"Just a sip," the girl coaxed. "It'll warm you up."

She waggled it, making the liquid inside slosh around. Connie opened her mouth to primly state that it was nine-thirty in the morning, miss, but then watched her own hand reach out to take it.

Oh, what the hell, she thought. It's not like I have to go to work today.

She unscrewed it and took a healthy slug.

Her eyes widened. It was rum, but a dark and mysteriously-spiced kind she'd never tasted before. It put a wonderful soothing warmth in her tummy. It went down so smooth she barely felt any alcoholic kick to it. The kick was there, however. She could feel blissful heat spreading through her limbs and rushing to her face.

"Ooh," she gasped. "That's... strong stuff."

She made to hand the flask back, but the girl gestured for her to keep it.

"Have another sip. It'll do you good."

Well. Don't mind if I do.

Connie wasn't a drinker, but apparently today was a day for exceptions. She took another gulp, and the last of the rainy chills left her body. She sighed.

She felt oddly clear-headed but at the same time... happy. She blinked. The deep gloom that had weighted her to this park bench had abruptly disappeared. It was quite startling.

In the gloom's place was a cozy, almost licentious kind of glow. She didn't feel drunk. It took more than two sips to put Concordia Baxter in her cups, but she did feel... strangely high. It was a heady kind of good cheer that was decidedly unlike her.

She held up the flask. "What on Earth is in this?"

The girl took it back from her this time and took a sip of her own. She closed her eyes, clearly savoring it.

"Just a little homebrew cocktail from back home," she answered without opening her eyes.

"And where's that?" Connie asked, surprising herself. She was never chatty with strangers, never mind strange white women.

"Collinsville, southern Illinois," the girl replied promptly. "Just across the Mississippi from St. Louis." She took another sip and licked her lips. The girl had a pretty mouth, Connie noticed--not wide, but pouty and expressive. It was a shame she had teeth like piano keys. The blonde held the flask back out to her. "Yourself?"

Without thinking, Connie accepted it and took another drink.

Mmmm.

She closed her eyes as more of that delicious warmth filled her.

"Baltimore," Connie said distantly. "I came here to teach vocational English to negro artillerymen during WW2, but once that was over..."

She sighed. Oh, why not tell her. In for a penny, in for a pound.

"I got married, but my husband died. I couldn't find another teaching post to save my life, so I took a job as a maid. It was only supposed to be temporary." She took another drink. "That was ten years ago."

She blew out a long breath. It felt good to tell this to somebody.

The girl asked, "Is that where you're going now? To work?"

Connie laughed. It surprised her how little bitterness there was in it. The absurdity of her dismissal was laughable, however she hadn't expected to get this much perspective so quickly.

"No. I'm coming from work. I just got fired." She fought down another bubble of inappropriate laughter and then, without thinking, blurted out the whole story. It was astounding.

The girl was a good listener and a gratifyingly sympathetic ear. Her eyes widened behind her glasses and her pretty lips made a horrified 'O' when Connie got to the up with the skirt part. She had pretty eyes, too, Connie noted, a striking crystalline blue, arresting even behind those heavy frames. She looked delighted when Connie described breaking her umbrella over the son's head and tsked in an appropriately crestfallen way when she got to the father letting her go.

She finished talking and the girl was silent a moment. Then she said, "My name is Melinda Hulley and I'm very pleased to meet you."

She held out her hand and Connie shook it without thinking. "Concordia Baxter, likewise." Impulsively she added, "Call me Connie."

"Connie... would I be correct in assuming you bring a change of clothes to work and there's a reasonably dry set in your bag?" She nodded towards Connie's own waterproof satchel.

"That's right."

"Well," she nodded towards the park behind them. "There's a public restroom right over there." She patted her duffel. "I just came from the laundromat and have some clean towels. Would you like to get dried off?"

"I..."

I couldn't possibly, but thank you.

"... I'd be very grateful, thank you."

What has gotten into you, Concordia?

~~~

The public restroom was a squat freestanding brick structure with Gentlemen at one end and Ladies at the other. Even after ten years in Philadelphia, it still took Connie aback when she didn't see any Colored Only or Whites Only signs. It only took about two or three months here before she realized they weren't needed. There were plenty of other ways white people let you know you weren't welcome.

The Ladies' room was spacious, with four stalls, three wash-up sinks and a lot of faded yellow tile. It had been cleaned recently; it smelled of Lysol and thankfully, nothing else. Connie sighed when she stepped inside. The place was heated and it felt good to be out of the rain. She took another fortifying nip from Melinda's magic flask. She felt like she was floating.

Ten minutes ago I was cold, wet and miserable, she thought. Now... I'm still wet, but I'm happier than I've been in years. It was inexplicable.

"Here," Melinda said, unzipping her duffel and pulling out a large orange towel. "Take this."

Connie took it. It was still warm from the dryer and had that fresh laundry smell. She almost moaned when she pressed it to her cheek.

Melinda unzipped her overcoat and thew it on the counter. Underneath, she was wearing a bulky gray cardigan over what looked like an old-fashioned button-up country dress.

"Hand me your clothes," Melinda said. "I'll see how dry I can get them with the blowers." She nodded towards the hand dryers by the sinks.

Connie nodded and folded her coat on the counter next to Melinda's. Feeling good and yet oddly detached, she unbuttoned her blouse. Underneath, she was wearing a large white brassiere. She didn't feel the least bit self-conscious about stripping in front of Melinda. It wasn't just the liquor talking; the girl gave off the most calming and trustworthy vibrations Connie had ever felt. Besides, at public swimming pools in summertime she'd changed to the buff in front of roomfuls of other women, some of them white, and even others she found distractingly attractive.

She did have a concern about people walking in, however.

"Um... does this place lock from the inside?"

"I think so, just a second..."

Melinda dashed around the entrance bend and Connie heard a click. She came back, nodding.

"Done."

"Good," Connie said. She took a breath, removed her blouse and handed it to Melinda.

The girl elbowed a hand dryer and it roared into life. She held Connie's top under the nozzle and let it billow in the stream of hot air. Then she pulled a roll of scotch tape from her duffel and secured the shirt in place over the blower.

Connie mopped her torso dry, then unzipped her long, unflirty workday skirt and stepped out of it. Melinda wordlessly took it from her, started up another hand dryer and taped it under the blast. Her panties matched her bra, and came up to her waist. She ran the warm towel over her belly and up and down her legs. She sighed. The rain had gotten to her underthings as well, but at least now she was almost as warm outside as in.

"You're soaked to the skin," remarked Melinda. "You might as well take off everything or you'll never warm up."

Connie looked at her for a moment, deliberating. Then she nodded. She decided she wouldn't mind being naked in front of Melinda. It was an absurd thing to feel about a woman she'd just met, but her feelings were clear.

After all, a sly part of her mind whispered, she wouldn't be the first woman with whom you'd gotten naked within an hour of meeting her.

Connie swallowed. She hadn't thought about that in years.

~~~

When she'd taught soldiers at Carlisle barracks, she'd been billeted with a large group of other colored female instructors in an officers' dormitory. It was like college all over again. The big difference was there were fewer opportunities for meeting boys socially. The base had a mostly transient population of enlistees; they'd show up for their classes and then ship out. Sexual frustration ran hot in the women's dorms.

There was a bar the girls could go to on the base, but it was off-limits to male servicemen. They had a decent band, however, and the booze was cheap. Connie found herself drinking with, dancing with, and later on - to her vast surprise - going to bed with a large number of her female co-workers.

She was drunk the first time, and blamed it on that. She enjoyed it very much, regardless. She was less drunk the second time, but still allowed it. She discovered being more familiar with the process made her enjoy it even more. By the third time she couldn't be bothered to use booze as an excuse any more. She was stone cold sober and had come to terms with her odd new sideline.

She took to sex with women like a duck to water, as they said back then. Being licked and fingered by some sassy young gal made her come like fireworks. The bigger shock was learning how much she enjoyed returning those sexual favors. She found it incredibly satisfying to make a pretty woman squeal and squirt. She found that most women were great at kissing and had an innate understanding of her body that most men lacked. While she never stopped pining for men, for the duration of the war her ladies-only sex life remained vigorous, varied and very satisfying.

In 1945, her pining ended. She met and married a long-haul trucker named Marvin Baxter and settled down into a wonderfully fulfilling married life that lasted all of one year and two months. Marvin was killed in a gas explosion at a truck stop diner out in Idaho. That put an end to her love life; there been nothing and no one since. She sold Marvin's semi and became Mr. Lowe's maid full-time.

~~~

With the lascivious buzz brought on by Melinda's witch-liquor, she was thinking and feeling things she hadn't in over a decade.

Is she attracted to me? Is that why she's being so helpful?

She kept a close eye on Melinda as she undid her bra and took it off. There was a telltale softening in the girl's eyes as her large, dark-nippled breasts were exposed. The girl was clearly doing her best not to ogle her, but it was a losing fight. Connie felt a different kind of warmth enter her.

"Oh, you have the loveliest little waist," Melinda said in a near-moan as she collected her bra.

"Thank you," Connie replied. She didn't intend her voice to be so husky and inviting, but yes, there it was. She took off her panties and handed them to the girl with a smile. Melinda took them with numb fingers. Her eyes kept sliding down the gentle slope of Connie's belly to her untamed bush.

Connie felt naked and exposed, but it was a delicious, thrilling feeling. She felt like she was glowing. She hadn't felt this sexy since her honeymoon.

"You know, you got a little wet out there too," Connie said in that same seductive voice. She reached over and began undoing the buttons of Melinda's cardigan. "Maybe you should get dried off as well."

Concordia, what are you doing?

She had no idea. What she did know was the girl wasn't protesting. Those big beautiful blue eyes were zig-zagging all over Connie's nude body as her long fingers worked away, and she was no longer trying to hide it.

Melinda wasn't Hollywood beautiful, Connie reckoned, but in her own way, she was quite lovely. Her long, vaguely equine face had a sculpted quality, and there was a fetching pink flush in her cheeks. Melinda stared down at Connie's black pubic triangle and licked those full, voluptuous lips. It sent an unexpected hum through Connie's loins.

Connie quietly made an important discovery: This girl is irresistible.

She bent and kissed her.

It was a crazy whim, but Connie didn't doubt for a second that it was the right thing to do. The girl's response bore that out. She kissed her back. In fact, her lips fused to hers with a depth of sensuality that shocked Connie and sent a fresh surge of tingly erotic heat through her. The girl tasted pleasantly of that enchanting liquor plus breath mints.

When their lips parted, the girl took a deep breath.

"Connie... there's something I should tell you..."

"Go ahead, honey," Connie said.

She had just finished unbuttoning the girl's cardigan (which wasn't wet in the slightest). It was an oversized thing that almost went to her knees. The first thing Connie saw when she opened it was the sporran.

Connie froze. She knew what it was and what it meant.

Oh... that is a wrinkle and no doubt.

The sporran was made of pink patent leather with a cartoon comet flying through cartoon stars on the flap. It was round and about the size of a frying pan.

Other things registered, which Connie's stunned brain could only file away for later. The woman's breasts were at least as big as hers. They'd been well concealed under her coat and sweater, but there was no hiding them now. Her dress fit her snugly and flatteringly, and there was a lot there to flatter.

She had a narrow little waist like Connie herself and a set of hips equally generous. She had a rear end that protruded saucily in back. It launched out from atop a pair of thick, curvy legs. The woman was an absolute knockout.

She hides it well, Connie thought faintly.

She looked into Melinda's eyes. Those glasses aren't prescription either, her inner voice noted. Without them, and with those lips plus a proper make-up job, there was a sexpot movie star waiting to happen.

The girl sighed and touched her sporran.

"I wanted to tell you about this."

Connie finally found her tongue. "You're Hag-bred?"

Melinda nodded.

Connie had never met one, although she'd certainly heard of them. They were the only white people lower than negroes in America's unofficial-but-enforced social hierarchy. Those that weren't negroes themselves, of course. She shuddered at the thought of a colored women coming down with Seahag Syndrome. There but for the grace of God...

Melinda unbuckled her sporran and tossed it onto the counter. Connie gasped. Her plain gray farmer's wife dress was tented hugely out in front. Whatever was under there was pushing it out by almost a foot. Connie swallowed with a dry click.

She's hard, she thought. Hard and enormous.

The bulge twitched as she stared, making the hem of the girl's dress rustle around her knees.

That thing is really alive in there, she thought in a daze. As big as a cucumber. No, a zucchini. Maybe even a dang eggplant.

Then Melinda pulled her dress off over her head. She was completely naked underneath.

Connie gasped again, and felt her legs get a little unsteady. Melinda's penis was real, alright. It had a proud, meaty, scimitar-like upcurve. It was a ruddier peaches-and-cream than the rest of her, and its fat dome shone bright pink. Her foreskin bunched below it. Her testicles were the same color, huge and smooth. They made Connie think of pink apples. Full-grown ones.

Her pubis was shaved bare. The brawny roots of her penis swept up into her rounded belly in a creamy flow of continuous skin. It sprang out of her so naturally!

Connie opened her mouth but couldn't say anything. Melinda's penis was bigger than Marvin's. In fact, Melinda had a bigger penis than any man or boy Connie had ever slept with. That was saying a lot - some of those country boys at Storer had been downright gigantic. It was also the most aesthetically pleasing male organ she'd ever seen. It was hard to even think of it as a male organ; its skin had a distinctly feminine gloss to it. It was as beautiful as it was imposing. Its head was a bright, flushed pink, the same color as her large nipples and areolae, and its shaft as smooth and stout as a Tuscan column. As big and burly as it was, it still looked oddly girlish and cute. There was something almost endearing about it. Her fingers itched to touch it and cuddle it. She wanted to press it against her cheek.

The rest of Melinda's body was just as stunning, albeit less incongruous. Her figure packed an even bigger punch in its nude state. Her breasts loomed like mountains over the rolling foothills of her tummy and pelvis. Connie's insides seethed in envy, consternation and arousal. It was the officer's dorm all over again.

Melinda hugged her. She just stepped forward and did it naturally, without hesitation. Her arms went around Connie and that amazing body with all its warm bare skin was pressed up against hers.

Ohh... she smells so good...

Connie's eyes rolled under their closed lids. The woman smelled like her momma's kitchen on Sundays, after she'd spent the morning making pancakes and the afternoon baking cinnamon-laden fruit pies. Connie breathed it in slowly and deeply.

Melinda's breasts were firm and full upon hers. Her penis, squished upright between them, was firm and hot and moist. It nearly reached her breastbone. She could feel it pulse. Not only did it excite the hell out of her, its warmth and solidity were somehow... comforting.

Melinda kissed her. Her tongue went in her mouth. Connie's knees shook. She kissed her back and they necked furiously in that anonymous Ladies Room.

I don't even know the name of this park, she thought distantly.

Melinda backed her up to the counter.

"Here," the girl said. "Sit."

Connie immediately hoisted her butt up onto the damp pile of her clothes. Melinda spread her knees apart and stepped between them. Her penis lay on her belly and that enormous ball sack pressed her vagina. The feel of that cock against her skin, hot and hard and full of dire intent, made Connie very wet.

She's gonna have one sticky sack, Connie thought.

Melinda bent and kissed her again. Connie's arms went around her and so began the wildest, most passionate bout of kissing she'd had since she was married.

Melinda snaked her hands between them and fondled Connie's breasts. She groped them with the prurient delight of a teenage boy while thumbing her nipples with the familiarity of a grown woman. Connie started moaning; she couldn't help it. Melinda was moving her hips, rubbing her balls all over Connie's cunt and clitoris and it all felt too good to keep quiet about it. She kissed the girl with great hunger and aggressively tussled her tongue.

That huge dick throbbed in the press of their bodies and Connie could feel its pre-ejaculatory fluid ooze with each pulse. She could smell it, too, she realized; her juice carried the same delightful note of cinnamon-infused sweetness as Melinda herself, and her witch-liquor. She moaned into the girl's mouth.

Melinda pulled back and started kissing her way down. She sucked each of Connie's nipples with that same mix of lust and precision. She used her teeth, and Connie let out strangled yelps. She almost came from that alone. The girl licked her navel, and Connie began shaking, knowing what was coming next.

The girl smushed her face into the wet mat of Connie's pubic hair. Now Melinda moaned. Her fingers crept into play, peeling Connie open and exposing the swollen and radioactive node of her clitoris to the open air. Melinda's beautiful lips encircled it.

"Ooh!" Connie gasped.

The girl crooned as she less-than-gently lapped and sucked at Connie's most sensitive point. Her fingers slipped inside Connie's pussy and immediately stirred up some friction with swirling, corkscrewing motions.

Connie gasped. She'd thought Melinda would be gentle and start things slow. Sometimes Connie had to give her lovers a bit of a giddyap to keep pace with the often-swift ascent of her arousal.

Not so with Melinda. The girl followed the arc of Connie's rise better than she did. She didn't just keep up; she pushed things forward. She spurred. She provoked.

"Ohh."

Connie shuddered as Melinda's mouth did diabolical things to her clitoris and urethra. The girl's fingers were churning her insides into a fine lather. One of one was even brushing and circling her asshole!

H-How did she know I love that?

She felt pressure on her anus, moist and insistent.

Is she... is she...

An oily finger pushed into her ass.

Ohh. How did she know? Oh dear Lord, am I... oh, so quickly? Ohhh...!

An orgasm just seemed to bubble up out of nowhere and shook the whole length of Connie's body. Her toes clenched while her fingers hyperextended and sparks seemed to spit from their tips.

"Oh! Ohhh..."

Melinda didn't let up. Her fingers pumped Connie's holes. Her tongue flogged while her lips slurped. She hounded and chivvied Connie's climax into greater and more delightful proportions. She sucked up the flow of her juices.

Only at the uttermost limit of her ecstasy, at the razor's edge of real pain, did the girl relent and gently bring her back down.

Connie panted and wheezed. Her body was slick with sweat. Every inch of her skin was suffused with warmth and almost-prickly sensitivity.

"Oh dear Lord," she panted. "Oh, good Lord."

Oh my. She could give those schoolteachers at Carlisle lessons.

Melinda rose and embraced her again. Her huge balls snuggled back into Connie's sopping grotto. Melinda kissed her and her face was wet with Connie's secretions. Her cunt-soaked tongue went into her mouth and Connie sucked it. Her heart thumped. That big dick was between them again, harder and throbbier than before.

Connie couldn't wait anymore. She seized Melinda's penis with both hands and squeezed that arrogant fucker. It pulsed and oozed in her grip. Connie had to moan out loud again at the sensation. The pre-cum was hot as it ran over her fingers.

She stared down blearily between them. Her hands looked so small, gripping it. She stroked it, getting it good and slippery with all that clear seeping nectar. Her nostrils flared; even as twitchily post-orgasmic as she was, the scent inflamed her.

She began to stroke it. Now Melinda was in her bailiwick.

She'd been well known for her handjobs at Storer College. Through natural aptitude and a whole lot of practice she had acquired a high level of expertise in the masturbatory arts. It was a rare evening Concordia Baxter couldn't stroke at least three pops out of whichever lucky fellow she was dating. She liked to kiss them and whisper dirty things in their ear while she diddled them. She liked to make boys cum. She got a huge kick out of feeling them squirt and hearing them groan.

In Melinda, she had a canvas worthy of her talents. She used one hand to pump Melinda's shaft while she worked the tip with the other. She thumbed the girl's frenulum while cranking her crown. Then she switched things up by leaving the glans to heft and squeeze each of those big seductive balls, all the while stroking with her other hand.

"Reach underneath them," said Melinda softly.

Startled, Connie looked up. Melinda's eyes were bright as diamonds.

"W-what?"

"Reach underneath my balls," the girl said patiently, as though this was a perfectly ordinary request. "Play with my beaver. And keep doing that with my penis."

Connie did so. This was a first for her. She'd played with dicks before, and she'd masturbated other women, but never at the same time. Thankfully, Melinda's snatch felt no different from the scores of others she'd fingered.

Melinda was very wet, and--as she dipped an exploratory finger up her box--astonishingly tight. She slid her finger in and out, savoring that hot, snug clasp. Once her finger was dripping wet, she moistened her thumb and cautiously extended it to rub Melinda's clitoris.

The girl moaned and closed her eyes. Her vagina grew noticeably wetter and her penis throbbed with greater urgency. It pumped out more of that sweet-smelling dew. Connie stroked and rubbed, first gingerly, then with greater confidence.

"Oh." Melinda moaned quietly.

Connie stared raptly into her face. The girl was numinous with pleasure. It transformed her features, lent them an otherworldly beauty. Connie was enthralled.

Without opening her eyes, Melinda collected a big glob of her pre-cum on her index finger and held it up to Connie's mouth.

"Taste it?"

Connie did. It reminded her of sugar cane and cinnamon. She licked her lips and blinked. There was a slight chaser of euphoria to it, not unlike Melinda's rum concoction.

What... on earth?

Melinda's penis began jumping in her fist. She throttled it with a will, pushing the girl just as hard as she'd pushed Connie.

"Oh," said Melinda in a broken voice, and began ejaculating.

The first volley shot over Connie's head and splatted the mirror. The strong, sweet smell of it registered immediately. She felt another mighty surge rise up the launch tube and the next burst went all over her face. Connie spluttered, but it wasn't the first time that had happened. It spewed and spewed. Great streams of sperm lobbed into the hollow of her throat and all over her breasts. It was hot and thick and tingled weirdly on her skin.

When she licked her lips and tasted it -- Oh good Lord, that's delicious!

She swallowed. The sweeping rush that followed made her eyelids flutter shut. It was just like taking a swig from Melinda's flask, except there was no unsteady boozy aspect. The feeling she got from it was pure and serene and ferociously arousing all at once. She could feel her entire body warming and softening into sexual pliancy. Every inch of her felt uniquely sensitized.

Her lovely mouth hung slack with stunned delight. Melinda extended an index finger and pushed more of that mind-altering sperm into her mouth. Reflexively, Connie swallowed, and that wonderful feeling grew.

Melinda's face lowered to hers and she began licking her face clean. Every few licks she would kiss her and push her sperm-coated tongue into her mouth. Connie moaned in joy. She squeezed Melinda's prick and felt it ooze out its last. It stayed firm in her hands; remarkably, the beast didn't lose any of its backbone.

There is something... I need to do...

Connie dropped the towel to the floor and slid forward limply to kneel on it. Her naked body slid along Melinda's with a silvery rush of tactile pleasure. When she came to rest, Melinda's penis was swaying in front of her face.

Connie looked up into Melinda's eyes as she began licking it. Her pole was well-coated with sperm, and every lap took Connie a little higher. Melinda's face was very expressive, especially when Connie tongue-flicked her frenulum. Her penis was expressive, too; it throbbed and juiced and shuddered in anticipation.

Don't you worry, baby, Connie thought. I'm gonna make you cum again real good.

Exceedingly good, Concordia, said the memory of her old teacher's college English instructor. And with that, she pushed her lips over the bright pink tip and sucked it into her mouth.

Concordia Baxter's handjobs were famous at Storer College. Her blowjobs, however, were the hushed stuff of legend. She would only give them to boys who'd held her interest the longest, boys she'd dated for more than two weeks. It was a very select group. They would speak of her skills in reverent tones.

Connie never got a reputation because she only ever dated one boy at a time. She went through a lot of boys, however. By her senior year it had become a long list. Despite that, none of them felt short-changed by her. Each one got lots of special attention.

As she slid her head back and forth, all of her old craft came back to her. She let her tongue rub and rotate about Melinda's glans. She slobbered on the cock so it could slip in and out of her mouth like a well-oiled piston. After a few experimental dips, she'd recovered all her old sword-swallowing skills, and confidently ingested Melinda's penis all the way to her clean-shaven pubis.

"Oh." Melinda cried softly, looking down with amazed eyes. Connie's own eyes watered like they always did when she deep-throated someone, but they crinkled back at Melinda regardless. She extended her tongue to tickle the girl's balls. Melinda shuddered.

Connie knew lots of little tricks, but the most powerful skill she possessed was paying attention. She focused on the penis in her mouth, and the expressions and body language of her partner. When she felt their excitement ebb or grow, she either changed or did more of what she was doing to better please them. It was about being aware and proactive in the moment.

It also excited Connie tremendously. Feeling her partner's arousal increase and knowing she was its cause was her favorite thing, second only to when they actually came. The only time she felt more alive than when she was anticipating that moment of release, was when the moment finally arrived.

And Melinda's moment was swiftly approaching. She was one of the most responsive lovers Connie had ever had. She didn't need to dig deep into her bag of tricks to please her. Her cock was pumping out lots of that weirdly sweet pre-ejaculatory fluid as it throbbed and trembled in her mouth. Connie felt that witchy euphoria grow. She closed her eyes and sucked harder.

Melinda gasped. "Ooh!"

Sperm burst into Connie's mouth, hot and flavorful. She swallowed, and more of that high-powered well-being filled her. She felt it sweep through her body, from her scalp to the soles of her feet. She tingled everywhere, especially in her nipples and between her legs. She felt electric.

The soothing, mellowing properties of Melinda's sperm were so profound that this even greater perspective shift didn't faze Connie. She went with it. The cum kept spurting and an ecstatic Connie kept gulping it.

Many spurts later, Melinda's orgasm completed. I'm not done, Connie thought blearily. There's more I want to do.

She pulled her head off the girl's post, squeezing it with her lips all the way. She gloried in the last lava-bright drops of cum that oozed onto her tongue.

She licked her dripping chops, and in a voice thick with sperm, ordered, "Sit on the counter."

Melinda obeyed, first putting a towel overtop Connie's clothes. Connie leaned in between her legs and licked her balls. They were wet and pleasantly astringent with both womens' pussy juices. She sucked each one, giving both a thorough tongue-bath in her mouth. She squeezed them out of her mouth and palmed them. She fondled them and then lifted the sack, pulling up the hood of Melinda's clitoris as the connective tissue to her scrotum pulled taut. The girl's vulva was laid bare.

This area too was carefully denuded. It was a pleasing little honeypot, all pink and gleaming with moisture. Connie inhaled deeply, and her nostrils flared at the pheromone-rich scent of saltwater rut.

She gave those balls one last kiss and then licked and nibbled her way down to the pussy. For some reason, the vertical ridge of skin directly linking her clitoral hood to her sac was particularly sensitive; Melinda moaned and writhed with astonishing animation as Connie licked it. Following her instincts, she pulled it tight and twanged it with her tongue like a banjo string.

"Oh!"

Melinda came again. Her cock was just suddenly pulsing and shooting another great torrent of sperm all over her torso. Neither Connie nor Melinda was even touching it. Amazement pierced Connie's marvelous high. A few pulses lobbed all the way onto the girl's face. A trickle of clear fluid flowed out of her pussy while her legs and belly trembled.

"Melinda...?" Connie asked hesitantly. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, never better, sweetheart," Melinda panted. She took a moment and caught her breath. "That little area there is called the Apple of Venus. It's pretty amazing. I'd stay away from it though, unless you wanna see some real fireworks."

Connie gulped, and decided to err on the side of caution. "Okay," she said.

Time to get back on track.

She took a deep breath (getting another intoxicating whiff), and dropped, face-first, into Melinda's wet splay.

Ohh... yummy.

The girl had a very juicy cunt. It was a joy to lick it and taste it. She had a surprisingly tiny clitoris, but once Connie found it, she discovered what it lacked in size it made up for in sensitivity. As with her penis, it didn't take much to bring Melinda to orgasm this way, either.

She's such a sexy girl, thought Connie appreciatively.

Melinda cried out and ejaculated again. Connie stroked her cock slowly while her tongue made gentle circles around the girl's cute little nubbin. This time, the cum shot straight up and rained down upon Connie's forehead and nose.

Oh! It's so warm... it smells so good...

"Come here, Connie," Melinda groaned. She sat up and held out her arms. Connie got to her feet and embraced her. Their lips met again and Connie nearly swooned.

My goodness, Connie thought blearily through those intoxicating kisses. Her penis hasn't gone down an iota. It's still thumping against me.

A shiver went through her. Well, why not? In for a penny, in for a pound. She caressed Melinda's fearsome trunk and felt it pulse eagerly at her touch. Or a pounding, as the case may be.

"Connie." The girl's beautiful eyes were half-open and looking into hers. Her lips brushed hers as she spoke. "Would you... like to get down on all fours?"

Oh my. She wants to fuck me like a dog. Or a bull, mounting a cow.

Another, stronger shiver went through her.

"Yes," she croaked.

She slithered bonelessly down onto her hands and knees. She planted her shins well apart on the towel. She could feel her labia peel apart and felt deliciously vulnerable. It gave her a quivery feeling deep in her tummy. She closed her eyes and tried not to think about how big Melinda's penis was.

She felt Melinda kneel behind her. The girl laid a hand on the small of Connie's back.

"I want you to know, I'm not just going to ram it in there." Melinda's voice was low and soothing and very, very excited. "There's a thing I like to do first. A kind of game."

She gave Connie's overlarge butt cheek a friendly double-poke with her penis. Then she began sliding it from side to side across Connie's crack. The head of her cock brushed Connie's vulva with every pass.

Melinda said, "It's like bobbing for apples. Only instead of an apple, it's this--" and her knob gave Connie's wet entrance a nuzzle-- "and instead of catching it in your mouth, you gotta catch it in your gazooch." She giggled and slipped a finger up Connie's vagina to illustrate. She wiggled it for emphasis.

Gazooch? thought Connie, even as her back arched in pleasure. Never heard that one. Must be a Midwest thing.

Melinda removed her finger and began dragging her glans back and forth over Connie's privates.

She tried to tighten when she felt the pressure, but that just made it slip away. It was like trying to catch a wet bar of soap. Around the fourth pass, she figured it out. She relaxed her opening instead, as much as she could. When Melinda pressed, she inadvertently pushed in deeper than expected. Then Connie tightened, and Melinda's bulb was nocked in place.

"Good," sighed Melinda. "Now squeeze it. Squeeze it hard."

Connie began working her vaginal muscles mightily, but Melinda didn't push right in as she expected (and, at this point, kind of wanted). Instead, Melinda held back and let Connie's vestibule knead only the tip of her cock. She cooed and moaned at the older woman's efforts, all the while fondling her buttocks.

"That's it," Melinda sighed. "Keep squeezing."

Connie felt that great helmet swell a fraction of an inch bigger and an excited pulse started in it. She kept tightening on it, falling instinctively into a nice steady pace.

"Oh," Melinda gasped. "Ooh!"

Her cock head flared and spat thick, high-pressure streams deep into Connie. Her vagina came alive with ecstasy and her own orgasm smashed back in waves.

"Oh!" Her cries joined Melinda's.

The euphoria grew in scope, becoming something even deeper and more fulfilling. It almost made her dizzy. Her whole body felt immersed in happiness and marrow-deep relaxation.

She counted seven more firehose-like spurts before Melinda's orgasm began to taper.

"Oh," she moaned raggedly.

"The good thing about this game," panted Melinda, "is we both win."

With that, the girl pushed in.

Connie came again. There was no pain, only pleasure amplified to a wracking intensity as her body somehow accepted that massive insertion. After being basted in dickgirl cum, she was more than ready for it. Melinda's broad penis bored into her with a thick squelching sound and displaced the sperm inside her; it dripped out and splattered the towel beneath them. The friction was sublime.

"Oh Lord," she gasped.

When the girl began sliding in and out, Connie's arms gave out and she dropped face-first onto the tiles. Her breasts plumped under her like pillows and her elevated hindquarters opened her even more fully to Melinda's penetration. Another orgasm rocked through her, a real juicy, clamping one this time. It set Melinda off again with a gasp. More of that psychotropic ichor flooded her, and her joy built in an ever-increasing spiral.

"Oh," she cried out, quite overcome. "Oh, my sweet Lord, oh!"

The girl began laying into her with deep, pile-driving thrusts. Connie's eyes rolled up into her head and she screamed into the floor. She came, and the involuntary flexing of her vagina made her new lover come yet again. Connie began humping back against Melinda's thrusts. Her cunt was stuffed so tightly, every time Melinda came, she could feel each blast of sperm traveling through the girl's fat column.

"Oh! Oh Jesus! Oh..."

Struck by a wild inspiration, she began tugging and squeezing with her vaginal muscles.

"Oh Connie," cried out Melinda. Her upper body dropped onto Connie's back and her arms encircled her. She undulated on top of her. She laid slobbery kisses all over her shoulders and the nape of her neck. Her great swinging ball-sack thwacked the older woman's clitoris. Connie moaned.

"Connie, Connie... ooh!"

They came together once again, and it was strong enough to lay them both out on the floor.  

~~~

They lay side by side, panting like they'd just run the Boston Marathon.

Connie licked her lips. She was parched.

Melinda entwined an arm with hers and clasped her hand.

"How are you feeling?"

"I feel..." at first Connie didn't have the words. And you an English teacher no less, she thought wryly. "Good," she finally finished, and it was so inadequate she laughed out loud.

Melinda chuckled with her. Connie licked her lips and tried again.

"I... I feel amazing. Melinda, this is the best thing that's happened to me in years."

"Good," Melinda answered. She turned her head and kissed Connie on the cheek. "I'm glad."

Connie suddenly found herself all choked up. For a moment, she thought she might burst into tears. Her thoughts and emotions seemed to be flowing with remarkable fluidity under the influence of Melinda's secret sauce. She got a grip on herself. She swallowed.

"Melinda... is there anything you want me to do? Something you like? I feel like I owe you."

Melinda rolled on her side to face her. Connie rolled to embrace her on their sides.

"You don't owe me anything," Melinda said. "But there is something I like... that I think you'd enjoy too."

Melinda ran a hand down Connie's back and squeezed a butt cheek. Then she put her hand between her cheeks and dipped her finger in Connie's cum-saturated pussy. Then, with an impish smile, she slipped that moistened finger up her ass.

Connie shuddered. The feel of that tingly digit going up her chute was unbearably sweet.

"I know you like this," Melinda purred, wigging her finger up Connie ass. "Don't try to tell me you don't."

"I..."

It was the one thing she'd always wanted to try with her husband. It never happened. Marvin was a hard-working, stoic and thoroughly wonderful man, but there were some things you just couldn't talk him into. Her asshole was one of them.

"I..." Connie just couldn't speak. She felt a roguish smile stretch across her face instead. She got on all fours again, with her upper body supported on her elbows and her rear end high in the air. Her knees were planted well apart. The invitation was clear.

Melinda kissed her. Then she kissed her way down her spine. Connie felt her heart start to pound as the girl shifted around behind her.

Her spine bent like a wishbone when Melinda kissed her asshole and licked it.

"Ooh!"

A finger went up her pussy again. Melinda swirled it around while she tongue-fucked Connie's asshole.

Oh God. Oh God, that's lovely.

Melinda removed her finger and then rubbed her marvelous sperm onto Connie's anus until it flowered open of its own accord. Then she placed her glans upon it and kept rubbing. She rubbed and pressed until it dilated just enough to admit her tip. Then she came into it with a loud grunt.

Oh!

Molten joy shot deep into Connie's anus. She gasped. Her whole body sagged in surrender. Melinda's dome popped through her softened, sperm-soaked ring with a spasm of the sweetest pain imaginable.

Her asshole practically sucked the girl's bough inside. It slid in noisily on a slick of the girl's hallucinogenic spunk. Once again, the penetration was easy, but not quick. Connie's ass opened slowly, but inexorably. Melinda's testicles smushed against Connie's vagina once more as she hit bottom.

"Oh."

It was everything she hoped it would be. The well-lubed rasp of that broad post through her nerve-rich passage was depraved and delightful. It made her feel like a dirty slut. She loved it. She let out a long, low moan.

"Oh, that's it," Melinda sighed. "Oh, I like being in your ass, Connie."

Connie could only moan inarticulately in response. Melinda began sliding back and forth and both the friction and the rapture increased. She moaned louder.

Melinda gripped her hips and took full possession of her. She rolled her hips. She reached around Connie's hip and rubbed her clitoris.

"Oh my goodness," Connie squealed, sounding twenty years younger. She cycled up into a radiant climax that left her quaking and whimpering.

Oddly, it cleared her mind a little. She felt looser and less overwhelmed in its aftermath. Melinda hadn't stopped her steady pummeling once during her orgasm, but now Connie had the presence of mind to start pushing back and tightening her rectal muscles on that beautiful, plundering prick. She matched Melinda's rhythm and added her own tantalizing syncopation to it. It was important to Connie that she please her.

"Oh," Melinda cried out. Her rhythm faltered, and when she began coming deep in Connie's asshole, it was the apotheosis of bliss.

~~~

"It must be getting near lunch time," Melinda panted. "Someone's going to need this rest room soon."

She was right. Connie knew their luck wouldn't hold.

I've already gotten luckier today than I deserve. A weird thing to think on the day she got fired, but very true.

"I don't want to stop," Connie said in a small voice.

"We don't have to," Melinda answered. "My motel's just around the corner." She got to her feet and helped Connie to the same. "I was on my way back from the laundromat when I saw you."

They turned on the hot water and began a desultory clean-up job.  

"What brought you to Philadelphia?" Connie asked as she patted herself dry with one of Melinda's towels. She couldn't help watching her do the same. The girl's body was really quite distracting.

"Visiting my family." Melinda made a face. "It didn't go well."

"Why's that?"

"They don't approve of my career choices."

"What choices?" Connie couldn't help asking. She scolded herself for it; ordinarily she was never this much of a nosy parker.

Melinda, bless her, took no offense. "The sausage circuit back in Missouri. They were hoping I'd go back to law school here at Temple."

Connie blinked. "Can dickgirls do that? Become lawyers?"

"If we pass the bar exam, sure. We just can't practice here in the continental United States. But there's no law against us practicing in overseas territories like Hawaii, American Samoa or Guam."

They gathered up their things and headed out. Connie squinted in the sudden sunshine; the rain had stopped while they were in there and the skies had cleared.

Melinda continued as they walked eastward. "My family couldn't afford to send me to college. My plan was to ride the sausage until I'd made enough for tuition. And that's what I did. I got my Bachelor's in Political Science that way, and my first year at Temple Law, too. But I decided I wasn't done with it."

"Done with what?" asked Connie. She found herself insatiably curious about this remarkable young woman.

"The life," she replied. "The sausage circuit. The people, the experiences. I wanted one more year." 

Connie blinked again. "Why would you throw away law school for that?" She was appalled. Her understanding of sausage joints was that they were dirty, nasty places where dickgirls were degraded for the amusement of vile men for tip money.

"Now you sound like my family," Melinda replied with a smile.

"I'm sorry, it's none of my business."

"It's okay." Melinda took her hand and squeezed it. Without thinking, Connie snatched her hand away and looked around. A colored woman walking with a white girl was conspicuous enough, never mind affectionate touches. Thankfully, they were safe. The rain had just ended and most of Philadelphia was still indoors.

"Careful," she told her.

"No one's looking," Melinda said. "I know."

Connie felt a little abashed. They kept walking and Connie instinctively lagged a few paces behind. Melinda didn't comment on it. She kept talking over her shoulder.

"I found the whole sausage joint experience a lot more rewarding than I expected. Emotionally as well as financially."

"That, I just don't understand."

"How do you feel right now?" Melinda asked.

Connie cocked her head, bemused at the sudden change of tack. "I feel... wonderful. I feel high as the sky and... alive."

I feel Godlike, she couldn't say aloud.

"Do you want to feel like this again?"

Connie laughed. "I'd like to feel like this every day, if I could."

But I doubt that's realistic, she thought.

"That's how sausage joints make me feel. That's how they make all dickgirls feel. The passionate attention of all those different people does for us what our sperm does for you."

Connie had a dreadful thought. "Is it... addictive? Your sperm?"

Melinda shook her head. "It's harmless. In fact, it's good for you."

Connie snorted, but she couldn't dispute that she did feel great. In fact, she felt healthy and awake and alert, and that was on top of her relaxed and giddily elevated state.

I shouldn't be feeling this. I lost my job today. My whole future is at risk. God help me, I may even have to move back to Daddy's house in Baltimore.

Regardless, the spring in her step just wouldn't flatten. She felt like Alastair Sim at the end of that film version of A Christmas Carol she'd seen last year, dancing and cackling on Christmas morning like a man on nitrous oxide.

Melinda carried on talking.

"I didn't expect to make enough to cover gas money when I started. I was astounded by the generosity of the sausage crowd."

"I thought they just... tipped you."

Melinda nodded. "They do, but every few nights a real high roller would come along. And some nights you'd get a huge crowd out of the blue. I'd clear hundreds of dollars a week, sometimes. Some weeks, I'd make so little I'd have to sleep in my car. But overall, I always came out on top. I was always able to support myself and make tuition. And I always had a great time doing it. That's why so many dickgirls do it, year in, year out. It's their best option."

"Don't you want to be a lawyer?"

She nodded. "Oh, absolutely. There's a lot of dickgirls and people close to them who need legal advice. But... I'm just not done with the circuit yet. Or maybe it's not done with me."

They arrived at the motel. The Fallen Log Motor Court had a big sign outside featuring a cartoon log being sawn in two by an unmanned hand saw. Connie was very grateful for the absence of prying eyes as they went to Melinda's room. She realized she had so many questions about Melinda's life.

She also realized, as Melinda shut the door behind them, she had all the time in the world to ask them. There was no job to get back to, no kids waiting at home. She and Marvin had never been able to conceive.

As they undressed for the shower, Melinda finally undid her braids and her unbound hair fell almost to her waist. It took Connie's breath away. She buried her hands in it and gathered it up as she kissed her. She wanted to rub it all over her body.

And here would be time for that too, she thought muzzily. They could talk and make love all they wanted. After the shower, they would move onto the bed and Connie didn't want to plan any further ahead than that.

~~~

"What will you do now?" asked Melinda, as they lay panting in the motel bed.

"Lunch," said Connie. "I'm starving."

"No, I mean, what are your plans? For the future."

"Oh." Connie had been trying not to think about that. She sighed. "Start looking for a job, I suppose. I have a little money squirreled away. I can feed myself for a couple months, but I need to get busy."

"Ah." Melinda paused. "Do you have any... current obligations?"

Connie snorted. "I'd say my calendar is pretty much clear." She looked at her. "Why? Are you offering me a job?"

Melinda looked sheepish. "Not a job. I was going to ask for a favor." She put in hurriedly, "One with the possibility of recompense, but... I can't guarantee it."

Name it. Connie was already opening her mouth to say it when her old caution reasserted itself.

"What kind of favor?"

"I need a ride. Do you have a valid driver's license?"

Connie nodded. "But Marvin's old car hasn't been out of the garage in years."

The truth was, it was hard for her to drive it. Every time she got in that old beater, it was like being surrounded by the memory of her late husband. She could practically smell him on the upholstery. Sometimes she would sit in there and weep for hours. She couldn't bring herself to get rid of it, so she just kept it and saved money by taking the bus everywhere.

Connie swallowed. "Where did you want to go?"

"Bluefield, West Virginia."

"West Virginia?"

Melinda looked even more sheepish. "I have a booking. Greyhound doesn't drop off there and my car's back in St. Louis."

"And when you say you have a 'booking,' you mean...?"

Melinda nodded. "A sausage joint, yes. I'm scheduled to perform there."

Connie rose up on an elbow and stared at her. "How were you planning on getting there without a car?"

Melinda shrugged. "Take a bus to Charleston and hitchhike the rest of the way."

"Hitchhike?" exclaimed Connie, thinking, Dear Lord. White people can do anything. A colored person would die of old age by the roadside, waiting for someone to stop. And probably get shot at for their trouble.

Melinda shrugged again. "I've done it before."

I'll bet. Connie's feelings for this girl became more concrete then. She cared about her. She'd had many female lovers, but they were mostly one-night stands or short-lived arrangements of sexual convenience. She'd felt fondness for those women, even affection, but her feelings for Melinda were deeper and unequivocally romantic. It was a kind of bond she'd only felt with men before. She didn't question it. It felt right and good, somehow. And from the way Melinda spoke to her, looked at her, touched her, Connie knew those feelings were reciprocated.

"Well, I can't have you hitchhiking all over West Virginia, and that's final," Connie declared. "But..."

She bit her lip. It had been a long time since she'd driven anywhere in Marvin's ancient '42 DeSoto. She cleared her throat.

"I don't even know if that old car will start."

Melinda stroked her arm. "Would it be okay if I took a look at it? I've gotten pretty good with old cars."

For the life of her, Connie couldn't think of a reason to say no.

~~~

"So where did you learn about vehicle maintenance?" Connie asked, raising her voice to be heard over the roar of the engine.

They were in Connie's garage. Melinda had been able to start the car after several attempts and was now standing over its open hood, watching and listening to it rumble. From time to time, she would adjust something with one of Marvin's tools. Connie had thought watching her handle her husband's things might upset her, but it didn't. She supposed Marvin wouldn't mind his tools being used to maintain his car (now her car).  

"Most dickgirls pick up a few things," Melinda answered, pitching her voice to carry. Her hair was bound up again and her glasses were back on her face. Connie decided she liked them. "It happens when you're on the road a lot. I had one car outright die on me in the middle of nowhere. Never again."

She made a minute adjustment with a ratchet, listened carefully, and then gave a satisfied nod. She shut the hood and then turned off the motor.

"Good as new," she said cheerfully. "It's about an eight-hour drive, but it's a beautiful part of the country. We don't even have to be there until ten-thirty pm."

"I still can't figure out why you would accept a job like that without a car."

"I didn't have a choice. My booking agent just dropped it in my lap this morning. Another girl canceled and I was the nearest one to the venue. The plan was to do my laundry and go. But then I met you."

She smiled at her, and to Connie's astonishment, the older woman felt an emotional little quiver deep down inside herself. She hadn't felt that kind of thing since her dating days.

Melinda said, "I had to change my plans after that."

Connie smiled back, and briefly considered dragging her into the back seat.

Better not, she thought regretfully. I've already had to take three showers today. One more and I'll become a giant prune. Plus, she noted, the upholstery would cost an arm and a leg to clean. Then she sighed.

"What?" asked Melinda.

"I almost wish... I hadn't stormed out of Mr. Lowe's place. I don't regret hitting his son one bit, but... now I kind of wish I had the option to take his money. A little grease on the wheels would come in real handy about now."

"You felt you had no option?"

"I couldn't accept that man's money. It wasn't just severance, it was a bribe to keep quiet about his son. I know five women he's done that to. And they weren't lucky enough to have an umbrella at the time."

"And the police aren't an option, either? You feel... if you went to them, they wouldn't believe you?"

Connie looked her in the eye. "Would they believe you?"

Melinda nodded thoughtfully. Then she had an idea. Connie could almost see the light go on behind her eyes.

"Concordia... I know you don't want to accept Judge Lowe's money, but how would you feel about taking it from him?"

Connie looked at her, startled. "Are you suggesting we rob him?"

Melinda laughed and shook her head. "No. Well, yes. But the legal way." She looked around. "Do you have a phone I might use?" she asked.

~~~

Connie realized she was gripping the steering wheel hard enough to raise blisters. She forced her fingers to relax.

She and Melinda were parked out in front of the Lowe house in Marvin's old DeSoto. It was almost two in the afternoon.

Connie gnawed on her lip. Four hours ago, she was positive she'd never set eyes on this place again. Now here she was.

"Relax," murmured Melinda. She placed a hand on her nape of her neck and rubbed it. Her touch was incredibly calming. Also, Connie was still riding a heady high which, admittedly, took a lot of the edge off the proceedings, but also lent it a slightly hysterical quality.

Melinda spoke soothingly. "Professor Bamford is my faculty advisor at Temple. I trust him. And believe me, we gave him more than enough to work with." She nodded towards the house. "Look, here he comes now."

Connie looked. The tall, well-dressed white man with impeccable (if graying) hair they'd picked up on the way here was heading towards them along the front walk. He had a broad smile on his neatly-bearded face. He was swinging his valise in a jaunty, even victorious manner.

"See, I told you he'd come back with good news," said Melinda.

He got into the back seat and beamed at them both. He opened his briefcase and handed Connie an envelope.

"Your severance, Mrs. Baxter. A full year's pay instead of that preposterous three months he was offering. Twelve hundred dollars."

Connie took it with numb fingers. She opened the envelope and confirmed the amount and the signature scribbled on the check. Her heart thumped very loudly and very slowly. Melinda squeezed her arm.

"And the other demands?" asked Melinda.

"His son will go into psychiatric care at once. When his course of therapy is done, he will be moved into a much smaller residence with no female staff to harass. Lowe will also provide Mrs. Baxter with a glowing letter of recommendation whenever she wishes to seek new employment."

Connie gaped at him. "How?"

He smiled at her, revealing a distinctly youthful twinkle in his brown eyes. "It was the names," he said gently. "The names of the other women you gave Mellie. When the judge began to dig in his heels and bluster, I told him if he took us to court, I'd subpoena all five of them to testify against his son. I rhymed their names off, one after the other. That was all it took. All that bluster collapsed like the proverbial house of cards."

He chuckled. "Oh, you should have seen his face when I told him I was representing you. A law professor, and president of the Pennsylvania Bar Association, no less. He didn't know whether to shit or go blind." That gleeful, juvenile glint shone even clearer. "I owe you my thanks, Mrs. Baxter. I haven't had this much fun with a case in years."

Connie cleared her throat. "I just... want to thank you, sir, for doing this pro bono. I'm very grateful."

"Oh, nonsense. I was happy to do it as a favor to my favorite student." He nodded to Melinda. "I trust I'll see you out on the circuit during the break, Mellie?"

She nodded back. "Of course. Looking forward to it."

She stuck her head back over the front seat and gave the professor a shockingly intimate kiss. Connie was surprised, and also a teensy bit excited by it.

"Well, if you'll excuse me," the professor said, "I always like to take a victory lap after a case goes this well. You both have a pleasant day."

"Are you sure we couldn't drop you off somewhere, sir?" asked Connie.

He shook his head. "I'll take a nice invigorating walk and hail a cab home."

Then the professor got out of the car and they both waved to him as he strolled away.

Connie carefully placed the envelope in her purse and started the car.

"So what was that about?" she asked, nodding toward the corner Professor Bamford had vanished around.

"Jack? I met him on the circuit. He's one of those high rollers I told you about. He's the one who sold me on Temple."

That dignified, educated gentleman... goes to sausage joints?

Melinda could read her expression. She spoke softly. "People from all walks of life are fans of dickgirls, Connie. You of all people should know not to make judgements sight unseen."

Connie snorted. They'd talk about that later. "I noticed he kept calling you Mellie. Is that how you prefer to be called?"

"Not really, but I make an exception for Jack. My stage name is Mellie Massive."

Connie let out an involuntary bark of laughter, then was promptly filled with chagrin. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

Melinda laughed "Don't worry about it. It is a silly name. Besides, it would be a sad world if people had to tiptoe around each other's feelings like that all the time. How far away is your bank?"

"Not far," answered Connie.

"Good. 'Cause once that check's deposited, we have got to get to Bluefield."

"Fine." Then Connie thought of something. "Hang on. Will they even let me in?"

"Your bank?"

"No, the venue in Bluefield."

"Oh. Oh, yes. The Four Leaf isn't segregated."

Connie ruminated for a while as she negotiated the suddenly savage Philadelphia traffic. Finally she said, "What can I expect? I had some preconceptions about sausage joints, but I suspect they're wrong."

"All right. First off, once we get there, we'll be making Seahag punch. That's when a dickgirl masturbates into pitchers of beer or whatever and it's served to the customers."

Connie gaped at her and nearly crashed her car. "People do that?"

"Why not? You did." Melinda pulled out her flask and waved it with a smirk.

"I knew it," said Connie. "Why on Earth would you be carrying a whisky flask of your sperm around?"

Melinda snorted. "Believe me, if you knew my family, you'd want to be fortified too. Especially before telling them something they don't want to hear. Anyway, at the sausage joints we get a percentage of those drink sales. There's usually a two-or-three drink minimum. It's good money."

"I should hope so," said Connie, nodding.

"So after the audience is good and warmed up, I'll come out. I do a little strip and masturbation act, called a squirt show for obvious reasons."

Connie paused. Melinda/Mellie had painted quite the picture, and her mind couldn't help dwelling on it for a moment. "And what happens then?"

Melinda shrugged. "Depends on the venue. Some of them, believe or not, don't allow any sex on the premises, and the girls make private arrangements. Some are a lot more permissive."

"What kind of place are we going to?"

"Oh, the Four Leaf is pretty much no-holds barred," Melinda said cheerfully.

Connie winced. "That's the part I'm having difficulties with. You actually do it with all these men?"

"Well yes, there is sex, but for the most part, it's beautiful, fun and celebratory. Everybody has a great time."

Connie blew out a breath. "If you say so. I'm still having difficulty with the prospect of watching you get mauled by a bunch of men."

"Connie," said Melinda reproachfully. "Did Jack Bamford strike you as the kind of man who goes around mauling people?"

"No," she muttered.

"Besides," said Melinda, "there won't even be any men there tonight."

Connie looked at her. "Come again?"

"The Four Leaf Tavern is a lesbian bar."

Connie nearly crashed the car again.

"What? You mean those women let you... fuck them?" Once again, the crudity came flying out of her mouth before she could stop it.

"Oh, they love it," laughed Melinda. Thank goodness she wasn't the type to take offense at harsh language. "Unlike the Supreme Court, they see dickgirls as women. Women with special bonuses."

"Wow." Connie shook her head. "This is... incredible."

A companionable silence ensued.

Connie chewed her lip as she drove. She imagined a naked Melinda in a bar full of naked women, going from one the next. It was strong stuff.

"Do they... suck you?" she asked, breaking the silence. Her voice was husky again.

"Oh yes." Melinda gave her an impish smile. "A lot of lesbians are very fond of dickgirl cock."

She's teasing me, Connie thought, but without rancor. She is deliberately getting me all riled up, bless her. Her mind was bubbling with diabolical scenarios, each more exciting than the last. She caught herself leaning on the accelerator, anxious to get to the venue faster.

She didn't mind driving Marvin's old car any more. She could no longer smell him on the upholstery. Melinda's pleasant scent had taken his place, and she supposed that was as it should be.

Connie's new young lover smiled, patted her thigh (careful to keep her hand low and out-of-sight) and tried to find something they could agree upon on the radio.

By the time they were on the interstate highway, they had settled on Ray Charles.

The End