She Thinks I'm Sexy

Note to reader: This story is a slower burn than my typical fare. Fair warning. Please do vote and leave a comment!

*******************

Thirty-five. The big three five. Sandra reflected as she stared into her wine glass. Not old exactly, but certainly not young.

She felt old though.

Sandra had not taken good care of her body. Probably a solid twenty pounds overweight, though thankfully most of it had gone to her ass. Her B cups were well suited to her frame but looked diminished now that she had a bit of a tummy.

It didn't help that her fashion sense could be most kindly described as mature. Tonight, she wore her brown hair up in a bun as always. The make-up behind her thick-rimmed glasses was minimal. She wore a black cardigan over her white blouse. Her charcoal skirt came to the knee. Nylon stockings covered her legs with a practical pair of Mary Jane flats on her feet. The net effect was professional but boring.

Sandra had long hoped the 'sexy librarian' image could work for her, though lately hers was more just 'librarian.'

Sigh. She looked idly around the bar. She didn't really know what she was doing here. She wasn't a bar person. It just seemed like she should do... something... for her birthday.

While she was feeling a touch pathetic tonight alone at a bar, Sandra did not suffer from low self-esteem. She thought of herself as a successful businesswoman. Hyper-focused on her career, she had climbed the corporate ladder rapidly, making vice president at the national industrial cleaning supplier she worked for just last year, quite a feat for someone her age.

And she was proud of how she had done it. She had not taken the easy way, not once. No shortcuts. She had used hard work, patience, and sheer competence to steadily best her competitors who relied on the current 'fake it till you make it' euphemism for lying to make yourself look good. She hadn't followed the trend to build an empire of personal alliances either, promoting and supporting those most loyal to you rather than most competent.

And she hadn't slept with anyone to get ahead. Not that that was much of an option for her anyway with nearly every manager she'd had being male.

While many of her co-workers assumed she was asexual - never mentioning any romantic relationships, never returning any of the suggestive looks or banter that had been thrown at over her career - she was very much a sexual being. And very much a lesbian.

A man at the other end of the bar tried his luck approaching a woman and was rewarded with her invitation to take the seat next to her. They smiled awkwardly at each other. Just like that. Simple.

But Sandra was in the wrong type of bar. Sure, she could have gone to a lesbian bar, but she just didn't have the emotional energy to put herself out there tonight. To put her best foot forward, to be attractive, to be vulnerable.

She knew she had neglected her personal life. Unintentionally, of course. With excuses just like tonight. Romance was a long term goal, but not an immediate necessity. It could be deferred until later. But later had not arrived yet, and she was starting to wonder if it ever would.

She took another sip of wine. Seven months - that was her record for a relationship, and that had been more than five years ago now. Sandra felt her sexual history was decidedly anemic for her age. Four lifetime partners. All of them had been young and inexperienced like her. Fun, but nothing earth-shattering. Nothing like what happened in the erotica she loved to read when she had time.

She still felt like a novice, like a little girl, when it came to sexual relationships. But it could be worse, she told herself. She had heard of sexually-repressed women who had never even had an orgasm. That wasn't her. She came at least twice a week.

Her body's needs she met with efficient masturbation. Extensive trial and error had taught her exactly what she liked. While Sandra could bring herself to orgasm by playing with her clit alone, she preferred to have something filling her while she diddled herself. A full, stretched cunt was a necessity if she wanted a powerful orgasm these days.

Yes, that would make her feel better, she thought with resignation. She could pay her tab, hurry home, and fuck herself happy. From among her now extensive collection of sex toys, she pictured the dildo she would stuff herself with tonight and the vibrator she would press against her hood.

She was still picturing self-abuse in the darkness of her empty bedroom when a woman's voice interrupted her.

"Here I am!"

Sandra returned from her lurid visions to find an absolutely stunning blonde leaning against the bar next to her, smiling at her.

"Excuse me?" Sandra managed.

"You came here looking for a good time, right? Well here I am."

Sandra's first thought: a prostitute, a professional trying to solicit her. The woman certainly looked dressed for a good time. Her halter-top cocktail dress displayed an impressively full bust that looked real to Sandra's eye but was big enough to make her question. Pretty face, professionally made up, maybe mid-twenties, delivering an aggressive pick-up line to... her, the frumpy overweight lady at the bar.

In theory, Sandra had nothing against paying for sex. She had even fantasized before about hiring a prostitute, though she had no idea how one would actually go about that in real life.

But what made the present situation so interesting was that the woman had correctly identified her as a lesbian. How? Was there a rainbow hanging from her nose?

"Ummm... maybe I'm meeting someone here."

"Nah." The woman smiled, completely undeterred.

"How do you know?"

The pretty young woman gave her a guilty grin. "I've been watching you."

"You have...?" Sandra felt herself joining the woman in her conspiratorial grin for no reason.

"Uh huh. From right over there," she pointed to a booth with a direct view of Sandra's perch.

"And what did you see?"

The girl seemed delighted at how things were progressing. She reached forward and gently clasped Sandra's forearm while leaning forward secretively. "I saw this sexy, classy woman sipping her wine all alone, never once looking towards the door or checking her phone. Vulnerable and defenseless." She gave a little shiver "How could I resist?" She grinned like a wolf.

Uh huh. The balls on this woman, approaching her and calling her sexy. For all she knew, Sandra could be straight, with a long-term boyfriend, devoutly religious with passionate views on the evils of homosexuality. But here she stood, pouring honey in a stranger's ear with absolute confidence. Sandra was impressed.

And as much as she was convinced the words were fake, it felt good to be called sexy. Sandra reached for her wine and giggled. It felt strange. She laughed occasionally, but she hadn't giggled in a long time. She felt the girl's eyes on her as she swallowed another sip.

"So, you got a name, sexy girl?"

"Sandra," she said reflexively extending her hand to shake, blushing from the 'sexy girl' comment.

"Clarice," the girl responded, taking the offered hand and gently rotating, planting a kiss on the back like a prince.

"Alright, alright," Sandra guffawed, pulling her hand back with a forced chuckle as her face flushed even redder and she looked around to see if anyone had noticed. No one had.

Clarice chuckled along with her, smiling and giving her a level of eye contact reserved for sexual pursuits. She was like something straight out of Sandra's wettest fantasy. A girly, feminine appearance with a strong aggressive demeanor. A rare combination in Sandra's experience. And this girl had both in spades. Unicorn rare.

Sandra took another sip of her wine. She knew this would all end at any moment when this lady of the night revealed her true intentions. Or maybe it didn't have to? Could she really go through with it and pay for sex? It was her birthday...

"You seem deep in thought, Sandra."

"Clarice, that's a rare name. Like in Silence of the Lambs, huh?"

The girl's smile faltered for the first time. Sandra cursed herself internally.

"I'm sorry, was that creepy?"

"Only if you're drinking Chianti," Clarice said raising her eyebrows questioningly.

Sandra followed her eyes to her wine glass. She raised her nearly-empty glass "Merlot," she offered to prove her innocence.

Clarice squinted and gave a few skeptical nods before they both burst out laughing. The desperate laughter of stumbling first romantic conquest.

"Ah ha, so you've seen the film," Sandra recovered.

"Once or twice." Clarice motioned for the bartender. "Let me buy you a drink. Another Merlot?"

The smile left Sandra's face. She was confused. She managed to nod.

As she heard Clarice order the Merlot and a vodka Martini for herself, she frantically reviewed her understanding of the situation.

Did prostitutes typically buy their clients drinks? Maybe? Perhaps the higher class whores could afford to risk losing money like this as a sort of investment in developing a new client. Sandra quickly settled on this as the most likely explanation, but her stomach remained tight with worry that she was missing something.

Clarice turned around with a drink in each hand. "Let me show you my booth. You're gonna love it," she joked as she led Sandra away from the bar.

******************

They talked for over an hour. Sandra, who only rarely consumed alcohol, felt more than a little drunk.

Clarice told a story that she worked in sales. 'Uh huh. That's one way to say it,' Sandra thought. But then her story got more detailed. She had just moved here from the other coast two months ago. For her career. Still in pharmaceutical sales, but now with a different company. 'Overly detailed story for a prostitute,' Sandra's inner voice told her, 'What the hell is going on here...' The prostitute idea was seeming less plausible. Maybe a con woman?

Clarice's phone would buzz periodically. She would check it and then resume the conversation, not offering to share who it was. Sandra's imagination ran wild. Was it her pimp? Her girlfriend? Boyfriend?

Finally Sandra was both drunk and curious enough to interrogate Clarice more directly.

"So how did you know?"

"How did I know what?"

"That I was a lesbian."

"Oh you are?"

For a moment, Sandra's heart stopped as she suddenly wondered if she could have somehow misread this entire situation.

"Just messing with you. I figured after we started talking." Sandra's heart resumed beating. "But I had no clue when I approached you."

"Well what if I had been straight?"

Clarice shrugged, "Worse case you say you're not interested. But maybe I would have convinced you." She smiled seductively. "People are sometimes more flexible than you think."

Sandra scoffed, "Maybe when you look like you."

Clarice smiled. "How's that?"

"Like beauty personified." Sandra realized it sounded corny and pathetic as soon as it came out. She'd never have said something like that if the alcohol hadn't loosened her tongue.

She looked away and closed her eyes. Fear. Fear of rejection. Right there, at least in that moment, she really liked Clarice and now that she'd revealed it out loud it frightened her.

Sandra expected Clarice to shrug it off. Girls probably told her how gorgeous she was everyday. She'd probably chuckle and say something like 'aww you're sweet.'

But when Sandra managed to open her eyes, Clarice was staring back at her. She had a little smile on her lips, but her eyes were all seriousness. They glistened. Sandra swallowed but held Clarice's eyes, owning her words.

"What a nice thing to say," Clarice said softly. This time it was she who looked away.

When she looked back, she seemed to have recovered from whatever that was. She smiled at Sandra. "Well this has been fantastic, but unfortunately I have to go."

"Nooo," Sandra whined playfully like a kid told it was past their bedtime.

"Yeah. And you want my number, don't you?" Clarice teased.

Sandra looked away with a coy smile on her face.

"I know you do. And you're in luck. I want to give it to you."

Sandra looked back at her. She was hooked. Completely.

"But I want something in exchange."

Here it came. She had known it was coming all night. It would be a relief for Sandra. Finally, they could get the prostitution out in the open. She would finally be able to calm her emotions, stop worrying about what this might or might not be.

She tried to think what she might pay. What would be a reasonable figure. A ceiling dollar amount to indulge herself just this once. The counter in her head increased, accelerating, hundreds, thousands. Clarice spoke up before the counter stopped.

"I want your number," Clarice announced.

"What?"

"If I'm gonna give you my phone number, I want to have yours."

"Huh," Sandra couldn't handle this. What was going on? "Okay..."

"But I want something else too."

Fuck! Was this whore slut fucking beautiful bitch just toying with her? Sandra felt like she was going to have a heart attack.

"What?!" Sandra spat at her, desperate.

Clarice smiled. "Your panties."

"Huh?" Sandra's mind felt broken. What kind of prostitute was Clarice?

"Sandra, I like you. I can tell you like me too. But you should know I'm intense. Kinky. A lot of ladies can't handle me."

Sandra's mouth was hanging open in shock as she tried to process this new information.

Clarice just looked into her eyes and powered through. "So if you want my number, I'm gonna need to see some courage, girl," she smiled here, "go to the bathroom, take off your panties, and bring them back to me."

Sandra's head tipped forward, her eyes lifted towards her forehead to keep Clarice's eye contact. Her expression said it all. It said, ARE... YOU... SERIOUS?!

She felt paralyzed. Things were so much clearer when Clarice was a prostitute. She would have paid the cost of dozens of pairs of panties for her number. But now the equation had changed.

If not a prostitute, what was she? Could she actually be romantically interested? Or was this some kind of prank? Some kind of power play? Was she making fun of her? Could someone have put Clarice up to this just to see what Sandra would do? Was there a hidden camera somewhere?

And what would this say about Sandra as a person if she complied? That she was desperate? Weak? Perverted?

"Go on, Sandra. Go now. Hurry up while I pay our bill."

Sandra's thoughts swirled. She was no closer to a decision, but she found herself walking towards the bathroom.

In the toilet stall, she sat down and buried her face in her hands.

Why was she so flustered? She made high-pressure decisions all the time. Was she really going to let some young floozy in a bar spin her like a top?

One of her fingers touched her lips. It slipped inside her mouth and she idly sucked on it and moaned. She was pretty horny. She felt like some kind of nympho pervert as she contemplated jilling off in the dirty bathroom stall.

Sandra clenched her eyes shut, took a deep breath, and then opened them. She had decided. Maybe this was a scam. Maybe she would regret. But she wanted Clarice's number. She had to pursue this. The risk/benefit ratio seemed clear in the moment.

She stood quickly and reached under her skirt to shimmy her underpants down. She stepped out of them and held them up for a quick assessment.

Sandra gulped, suddenly less sure about all this than she had been a second ago. In her hands now, her panties seemed so much plainer than when she put them on this morning. And white. And huge. Was her ass really this big? Why didn't she wear sexier underwear?! Despite the bit of lace on the hem, the term 'granny panties' seemed apt. They were an old pair with a permanent dark stain in the crotch from spotting over time.

But worse they were damp. Wet, more accurately. Sandra could smell herself wafting off of them at arms length. Her damned horny cunt. The thought of handing them to Clarice in this state was unbearable.

Her anxiety spiked. She hadn't felt her emotions this out of control since she was a teenager. She thought she had grown out of it. Apparently not. She forced herself to take some deep breaths and think.

Could she dry them quickly with the hand dryer? Could she wait for another woman to enter the bathroom and pay her for her panties to use as a substitute? Could she have a new pair of panties delivered to the bar bathroom via online delivery service?

Sandra giggled aloud. She was being crazy. She had it bad for a strange, beautiful girl she'd just met. As stressful as this felt, she was having a much better night than she had planned. Fuck it.

As she exited, she caught her image in the bathroom mirror. She was still her. Still chubby. Still sexy-ish librarian. Still way out of the league of such beauties as Clarice. But she was ok. Time to see where this leads.

Sandra marched out of the bathroom and plopped back into the booth across from her tormentress. Her skirt fabric felt rough against her bare ass.

Clarice raised a questioning eyebrow.

Sandra leaned forward and extended her hand under the table with her panties balled in her fist.

Clarice smirked at her and shook her head, extending her hand palm up on the table.

Sandra looked around quickly. No one seemed to be paying any attention to them. She blew out an exhale and put her panties in the girl's palm before she could second guess herself.

She fully expected the young woman to quickly pocket her trophy. When Clarice instead unfolded the little bundle and held them up for inspection, Sandra almost screamed in shock and humiliation. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she felt short of breath.

After a few seconds that felt like hours, Clarice folded and pocketed her underwear and smiled back at her. "Well done, Sandra. I'm impressed."

Sandra's cheeks remained hot with her heart rate high, but the words made her feel better. She bit her lip in crooked simper.

"Give me your phone."

Sandra unlocked it and handed it over as quick as she could. When it was returned to her, she saw that she'd sent a text to a new contact named Clarice. She had half expected the woman to enter her number as Mistress or Goddess. She felt honored that the woman had entered her name. Almost like they were equals.

The contents of the text quickly dispelled that notion: *Enjoy my sodden knickers, my Queen!*

Sandra looked back up at Clarice with the best faux-angry face she could conjure.

Clarice burst into giggles. "Did I capture your thoughts accurately, Sandra?"

Not really. She was thinking about Clarice's knickers at the moment. But she managed a playful smile. "Sure."

"Well it's been lovely to meet you, Sandra," Clarice said rather formally as she stood up. Sandra stood too, hoping for a less formal farewell. A hug? A kiss maybe?

"You too, Clarice. I've... I've never done anything like that before." Sandra confessed self-consciously.

"Well don't worry, there's more to come!" Clarice pointed her finger at her as she began to walk away. "Call yourself an Uber home, ok?"

"Ok!" Sandra said, watching the beauty sashay out of the bar. She looked down at her hands as she felt her heart sink with disappointment. She wondered if she would ever see her again. At least she got her phone number.

"Hey!"

Sandra's eyes shot up to see the blonde walking quickly back towards her. "What?"

"Forgot something," Clarice muttered as she grabbed Sandra's face with both hands and took her lips in a deep kiss. Sandra's eyes went wide as saucers for a moment before she melted into the kiss. She felt Clarice's tongue on her closed lips and quickly opened to let her in. Sandra couldn't suppress a little moan as she sucked on the younger woman's tongue.

Clarice pulled back with an audible sucking sound. Her smile was absolutely gorgeous. "Bye!"

And then she was gone.

Sandra looked around and noticed multiple sets of eyes on her. They had made quite the scene.

******************

Fifteen minutes later, Sandra sat in the back of her Uber, playing it all over again in her mind as she rode home. She almost wouldn't have believed it was real if she didn't feel her skirt against her bare ass and her stickiness wetting her inner thighs. She was so horny that she was fantasizing about hiking up her skirt and fingering herself right there. She was going to absolutely desecrate herself with her dildo tonight.

Her phone buzzed.

She frowned at the text message, but she felt her cunt clench.

*Don't touch yourself tonight, sexy girl*

She thinks I'm sexy..

*************

Clarice couldn't wipe the smile off her face as she walked out of the bar and strolled down the street. Though it dampened a bit when her phone buzzed again in her handbag.

Her friend had been texting her all night. The one she had dressed up for tonight. The one that was supposed to be taking her clubbing to try and jumpstart her love life in this new city she now called home.

She had absolutely stood her up.

But she'd had no choice. Not really. Not after she'd seen that ass.

She had planned to just get a quick drink since she had half an hour to kill before meeting her friend, when she'd spied the plump derriere perched just so on the barstool. God bless barstools. As if they were designed to display buttocks to maximal effect. Maybe they were.

These buttocks bulged from a charcoal grey skirt. The legs beneath them were tastefully clad in stockings. Mmmm, you just didn't see nylons like that much anymore. Clarice had a bit of a fetish for them.

The outfit made Clarice think the woman was probably older, but when she maneuvered to see her other side, she found a youthful face deep in thought behind a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. She was just Clarice's type. Now if only by some miracle she was into girls...

Clarice watched the woman for 15 minutes. With every minute she felt her chances improve. The woman was alone. She didn't look at her phone or the door, just deep into her wine glass, as if trying to divine her future in the liquid.

After she opened her mouth, Clarice became even more smitten. The woman spoke Clarice's language effortlessly. And when the conversation had moved to their professional lives, Sandra's persona oozed a quiet competence that felt no need to boast. This feature more than anything made Clarice want to fuck her.

Sure, she was older, a bit overweight, her outfit was a little dowdy, but she could be so hot if she wanted to be. Maybe Clarice was just what she needed. Clarice's dirty mind concocted all sorts of fantasies as she watched the woman's lips form carefully selected words, somehow tentative and confident at once.

Now, less than two hours later, she had the woman's number. And her panties. "Sandra..." she said to herself on the sidewalk. It made her smile again.

She sent Sandra a quick text and then dialed her friend. "Hey Lizzie! I'm so sorry. I know, I know. I am the worst. I owe you big time."

On the other end of the line, her friend exhausted all her frustrations and finally asked, "So where were you?"

Clarice laughed and felt a rare blush warm her cheeks. "I think... I think I may have just met my future wife..."

******************

In the morning, Sandra's phone buzzed.

*Sleep well, darling?*

Darling? The term of endearment was obviously in jest, but it stung Sandra a bit, like Clarice knew what she wanted to hear and was taunting her with it.

While Sandra was pleased to be contacted by Clarice so soon, she had most certainly NOT slept well. She had not replied to the 'don't play with yourself tonight' text, but she had obeyed it. She wasn't sure why. She could have ignored it, or refused, or said she didn't see it until later.

It had cost her. Her persistent unattended arousal had made it difficult to fall asleep, and when sleep finally took her, her dreams were filled with Clarice. Frustratingly, they were not the happy, steamy dreams she would have enjoyed.

Instead, they involved a series of vaguely scripted betrayals and humiliations, Clarice laughing at her, her realizing she was butt naked back in the bar, like that. The only one she remembered clearly was Clarice spanking her and calling her Piggy while she was naked on all fours on a crowded dining table with an apple in her mouth.

*No [angry emoji]* she typed and sent.

*Aw, you poor thing. I slept great [winking emoji]*

Bitch. She decided that she was definitely cumming today, regardless of what Clarice said. She had held off last night out of... courtesy, but she wasn't going to deny herself forever. Sandra was trying to convince herself when her phone buzzed again.

*I hope it wasn't because your fanny got cold. I'd feel dreadfully responsible if it was because I left you pantyless.*

Sandra snorted.

*The opposite actually*

Sandra watched the typing symbol and waited patiently.

*Tell me, were you wearing pantyhose or thigh highs last night?*

Sandra smirked as she responded. *Thigh highs*

The response came back immediately. *Mmmm, irresistible. So hard to find a woman in nylons these days, you know?*

The words warmed Sandra's heart. Could this pretty young girl really be attracted to her and her style? Another text came through quickly.

*So unfortunately I have to travel for work this week. Flying out tomorrow. Six days. [Frowny face emoji]*

*Oh* Sandra typed back, wanting to say more but afraid.

*But I'd like to see you again. Today.*

How presumptuous to assume she would drop everything just to meet up, Sandra thought as she typed *I'd love to see you today. No plans!* In truth, she had planned to spend her Saturday polishing a presentation she was to give on Monday. But she could finish that tomorrow. The prospect of seeing Clarice again was too alluring.

*Meet me downtown in front of the Museum of Fine Art at 3 PM.*

*Sure. See you then.*

*And Sandra, I'll bring some panties for you. So don't wear any.*

"Ha!" Sandra said aloud when she read the scandalous request. Sandra fought to wait at least ten seconds to give the illusion that she was considering whether or not to comply.

*[Blushing emoji]*

*********************

Sandra stood outside the museum, clutching her arms around herself to defend against the chill breeze. She had considered wearing thigh-high stockings again just to please Clarice, but she didn't want to look like she was trying too hard.

And she was trying too hard.

She felt a little foolish, throwing herself at this girl with everything she had. As the older, fatter, less attractive one, she had to assume that the girl thought of her as just a passing fancy, a temporary plaything. The girl was out of her league, clearly.

Even so, she was eager to enjoy this moment in the sun. She had spent the entire morning preparing. Shaving her legs and armpits, trimming her bush, doing and redoing her hair and makeup, agonizing over her outfit. She wore a navy linen midi dress that buttoned down the front, one of the more girlish pieces in her wardrobe.

And no panties as instructed. She had considered denying Clarice her brazen request. She should refuse, resist, if only to earn Clarice's respect, to show her that she was a mature, professional woman who wouldn't rush to cater to the girl's every whim. She had even gone through all her panties, deciding on a pair she could wear with pride.

As a gust of wind sent an eddy current between her legs, teasing her bare bottom, she wondered for the hundredth time today if she was crazy to be here. The girl was too pretty for her, too young. If she had to guess, she'd peg Clarice's age at 24. But it hadn't come up so far, and Sandra was certainly not going to be the one to bring up the topic of age.

When she caught sight of the beautiful blonde picking her way through the crowd, she was instantly reassured that she'd made the right decision to come today.

One might say Clarice was dressed casually, but in the way a model would display casual clothing at a professional photoshoot. Her black jeans were tight, perfectly tailored to her figure. The caramel leather jacket looked new and so soft. The bright white crop-top beneath concealed her considerable knockers, which competed for attention with the diamond stud in her belly button.

Sandra couldn't help smile at the surrealism she felt. She would have been happy just to catch a glimpse of this woman, on film even, much less speak to her, much less be her date. Clarice affected everyone in the crowd, turning male and female heads alike, both wondering where she was going and who might be lucky enough to accompany her.

As Clarice approached, Sandra became nervous. After considering a timid wave, a firm handshake, and a friendly hug, she had settled on the hug as the greeting she would go for.

But when the gap narrowed to only a few meters, Clarice smiled at 1000 watts. "Look at you!" she praised, and without breaking stride, she threw her arms around Sandra's neck and kissed her lips. Sandra's arms, which had been opened for her planned hug, now fell gently around the girl's waist as she accepted her kiss.

Clarice pulled back. "Hi!" she grinned.

"Hi," Sandra smiled back.

"I love you in that dress. It suits you."

Sandra couldn't help but bask in the compliment. "I like your outfit too."

Clarice offered her hand. "Let's go see some fancy art!"

Sandra felt her body temperature rise a degree when she took the girl's hand and allowed herself to be led inside. There was some sort of special sculpture exhibit going on and a visiting collection of renaissance paintings. It didn't matter to Sandra. She would have happily come to peruse blank canvases with Clarice.

But before they entered the exhibits, Clarice halted them outside the toilets. "Don't worry. I didn't forget what I owe you," Clarice said with a naughty smirk as she pulled something out of her jacket pocket and pressed it into Sandra's hand.

Sandra opened her fist just enough to glimpse black lace before looking back up at Clarice. "I'll wait for you here, unless you'd like some help changing into them?" Clarice offered with faux helpfulness.

Sandra giggled. There it was again. Strange. "I think I'll manage," she said, reluctantly parting from her date to enter the bathroom.

In the toilet stall, she examined her gift. A black lace thong in exactly her size. Fine satin in the crotch to cover her lips, soft intricate lace straps that were meant to sit high on the hips to emphasize the V shape diving between her legs. Sandra had never worn a thong. She'd always thought of them as trashy, slutty, cheap. But the panties in her hands now felt expensive.

"Ooooh," she cooed softly as she felt the strap pull taut between her cheeks.

As she exited the toilets, she felt the soft fabric massaging her asshole with every step. Clarice grinned at her, intuiting the new sensations she was experiencing.

"I was between that pair and two others. It was an agonizing decision. I ended up buying all three pairs," Clarice said loudly, enjoying their shared secret.

Sandra froze, momentarily scandalized, before quickly recovering and holding out a hand palm up, "So where are my other two pairs?"

Clarice took her hand and pulled her towards the exhibits. "Patience, darling. You'll have ample opportunity to earn them on future occasions."

Sandra bit her lip but couldn't suppress a titter at the girl's overdramatized air.

Together they strolled, hand in hand, viewing masterworks hundreds of years old.

Had fine art always been this erotic? Or had Clarice chosen this exhibit in particular? There were bare tits in almost every room! It felt so naughty, roaming amongst the well-dressed serious people, holding hands and looking at tits together, with stripper panties under her dress no less.

"Do you like her?" Clarice whispered before a nude portrait of a girl whose blonde hair was long enough that she was using it to cover her sex.

A thousand sappy responses to Clarice's setup occurred to Sandra. All seemed inadequate. She met Clarice's eyes. Were they both imagining the other in the same pose?

"Have you ever grown your hair that long?" Sandra answered with a question of her own.

Clarice thought about a girl she'd fucked once who had hair almost that long. She'd worn it in two long braids that came almost to her hips. Clarice remembered the novelty of holding those braids like reins as she'd fucked the girl from behind.

She looked at Sandra, imagining her hair flowing down to her butt, giving her that same shy smile wearing nothing but a collar.

"Can't say I have. This is about as long as I've ever gone. You?"

Sandra shook her head. There was something demure about hair that long. She really couldn't imagine Clarice with that hair style. Her hair was perfect as it was, like the rest of her.

"It would look lovely on you," Clarice said with a smile, sliding her arm around Sandra's waist and leading her to the next room.

The sculptures were even more suggestive. Full bare asses and perky breasts cast in bronze.

"Oh I love this one!" Clarice announced, studying a distinctively plump female torso. Pear-shaped with a rather generous ass, a splendid belly wide as the sea, and sweet little breasts.

It looked like Sandra would if she lost ten pounds. Sandra shot Clarice a suspicious stare. She felt like she'd just been publicly stripped.

"Fucking hot, right?" Clarice whispered with her trademark smirk.

Sandra searched Clarice's eyes for teasing. She detected no hint of jest or malice.

"I dunno. I'd rather see one that looks like you."

"Ooh, lucky me," Clarice fanned herself as if she had a fever, moving on to the next sculpture.

Sandra stayed behind a moment longer, pondering the sculpture with the fat ass. Could Clarice really prefer this?

*******************

After they had perused enough art, including some with clothing on so they could call themselves cultured instead of perverted, they went on a walk.

They weren't ten blocks from the art museum when Clarice stopped in front of an apartment building and gave Sandra her trademark grin.

"What do you know? My feet have taken me home! I live here. Would you like to come up?"

Sandra's face lit up with unconcealed joy before she hesitated. "I'm not sure we should."

Clarice gave her a smile, like she thought her resistance was adorable. "If you don't want to come up, don't come up. I won't be offended." Her grin widened even further, daring Sandra to deny herself.

Sandra knew this was almost certainly just a fling for Clarice. She probably just wanted someone to lick her pussy before her business trip.

And Sandra was more than happy to fulfill that role if it was offered to her. But still, she didn't want Clarice to think she was easy or desperate or slutty. She was about to concede and beg for admittance to the goddess's abode, when Clarice helped her out.

"Hey, if you think coming up will decrease the chances that I see you again, then don't come up. I definitely want to see you again."

These were just the words Sandra wanted to hear. She beamed at the goddess, silently thanking her.

"I'd love to see your apartment, Clarice!"

"Oh, but that's not quite what I offered."

"Huh?"

"Seeing the apartment will have to wait for another day. Tonight, you can come up, but you won't be able to see..." She pulled a blindfold from her pocket.

Sandra snorted in shock, which instantly embarrassed her. This girl was a temptress. She felt like she was in some oddly slow-moving wet dream.

"You were carrying that in your pocket the whole day?"

"C'mon, as a compromise I'll let you see the elevator and the hallway," Clarice conceded as she tugged Sandra inside.

*****************

Outside her apartment door, Sandra felt like a schoolgirl again as Clarice moved behind her and tightened the blindfold over her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, and her heart was racing, but she was smiling from the guilty thrill.

The blindfold was high quality, silky fabric over a soft cushion covering her eyes strapped around her head firmly enough so it wouldn't easily dislodge. As soon as it was in place, Sandra felt an exhibitionistic thrill and fear of being discovered in the hallway in such a lewd state.

"C'mon Clarice, hurry, let's get inside!"

"Oooh, so eager. I love how uninhibited you are, Sandy!"

Sandy, huh? No one had ever called her that. Not even as a child. Somehow her rather serious demeanor didn't lend itself to nicknames. She would have corrected anyone else.

The sounds of Clarice fussing with her keys and unlocking the door lingered long enough that Sandra wondered if the girl was intentionally delaying their entrance to prolong her suffering.

She sensed the door opening, and then a hand on her arm and a gentle push at the small of her back ushered her into the apartment. Sandra swallowed and stepped blindly forward, feeling the reality that Clarice could lead her right off a cliff.

The door closed behind her, and she shuddered. Clarice must have noticed because Sandra felt hands on her shoulders rubbing her gently, "You're ok, Sandy. Deep breath. Good girl. Now I'm going to lead you and take what I want, but if you want me to stop at any point, you just let me know, ok baby?"

Sandra nodded. She desperately did not want Clarice to stop, but at the same time she felt scared. She took another deep breath to try and slow her pounding heart.

And then she felt hands on her neck, caressing her, sliding back into her hair and then down over her collar bones. The hands moved to the neckline of her dress... and started unbuttoning it.

Sandra panted with arousal as Clarice took her time undoing every button on her dress. This was, without a doubt, the most erotic experience of her life.

She sensed the girl step around behind her before slipping the dress off of her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.

"Mmm mmm mmmm. I'm a lucky woman."

Suddenly, Sandra felt a wave of self-consciousness crash into her. The girl of her dreams was behind her looking at her ugly, fat ass in a thong.

"Do.... do you really think I'm sexy?" Sandra asked in a quivering little girl voice.

Hands gripped her waist and she felt Clarice's clothed body press against her skin from behind. The girl growled in her ear, "I really, really do."

"I... I don't look like you..."

"I know what I like. People are attracted to different things. Just ask heterosexuals." She chuckled at her own joke, and it set Sandra at ease.

"I want to let your hair down, ok?"

Sandra nodded her permission. She expected it to be difficult with the blindfold in place, but Clarice took her hair in a firm grip and pulled her head back. She put one hand over Sandra's eyes, holding the cloth in place, while she tugged the hair tie free. Sandra's hair fell down to her shoulders, and Clarice re-secured the blindfold.

And then her touch was gone. She heard Clarice step around in front of her again. Sandra stood in the entryway timidly, her left hand gripping her right thumb at bellybutton level. She hoped her pushup bra was doing its job. She hoped her make-up looked alright. She hoped Clarice was pleased.

"Do you want me to touch you, Sandy?"

"Yes."

"Beg me."

Sandra gulped. "Please Clarice. Please touch me."

A pause long enough to make Sandra begin drafting a more extravagant plea in her head. And then the hands returned. Squeezing her sides, sliding across her belly, feeling the sides of her buttocks. A firm hand on her hip and another on her neck pushed her backwards. The wall felt cold on the bare skin of her back and exposed butt cheeks.

The hand on her neck moved up to cup her cheek. A thumb moved gently over her lips. And then between them. Sandy let out a little moan around the thumb and started sucking it. The hand on her hip moved to her crotch, pressing against her mound through the thong's thin front panel.

"Oh Sandy! You're wet!" Clarice exclaimed in mock surprise, "What a dirty, naughty little slut you are!"

Sandra moaned again, grateful to be blindfolded so she didn't have to face Clarice and her discovery.

The finger in her mouth was plucked free. And then Clarice's lips were on hers. They made out passionately, exploring each other's mouths, sucking face.

When Clarice's hand reached behind her and pawed at her bare ass, Sandra felt empowered to do the same. Cupping the girl's firm butt with both hands felt glorious, but the girl still had her jeans on while she was in her underwear. Her hands moved on their own, hastening to unfasten the girl's jeans before her mind could catch up.

"No," Clarice's voice was firm, as was her grip on Sandra's wrists. She pulled Sandra's hands away from her crotch and stepped back.

"I'm... I'm sorry.. I-"

"Don't be sorry, Sandy. You want inside my pants. That's good. But you have to earn it first."

Both women were panting, catching their breaths from the make-out session.

"Take off your bra."

Sandra reached behind and popped the clasp on her brassiere. She shivered as the cups fell away. Her nipples stiffened in the cool air.

"Cup your tits. Lift them. Offer them to me."

Clarice bit her lip as the curvy bitch in front of her followed her every command. Her ambitions for how far to take Sandra tonight rose as she shrugged off her leather jacket and pulled her crop top over her head.

"Pinch your nipples for me, roll them between your fingers. Good girl. Now keep your head and your ass pressed back against the wall. Put your hands on your head and keep them there. Good, now arch that back, thrust your chest out for me baby!"

As she stood there straining to curve her spine to maximally flaunt her tits, she felt like a whore. Words came to her, spoken in her mother's voice: floozie, hussy, trollop, tramp. They made her pussy sweat. 'Are these the words in Clarice's head right now?' she wondered. 'In a good way?' she hoped.

Then she felt a tongue lapping at her nipple, and she almost came on the spot.

"Ohhh! Mmmm! Thank you! Oh!" Clarice clawed at one breast while she sucked on the other one. Her teeth lightly bit at the teat. Sandra drove her fingernails into her own scalp to keep her hands from leaving her head.

Finally, when Sandra thought she might lose her mind, Clarice pulled away.

"Mmmm. Would you like to taste my tits, Sandy?!"

"Please!"

"Hmmm, alright, you can take your hands off your head, but you still can't touch me. How 'bout you grab your ass? There you go, get a nice handful of booty in each hand and don't let go. Fuck, you look so hot like that, baby."

The natural tension in her arms resulted in Sandra spreading her own ass. The motion made her even more aware of the stripper thong between her cheeks. How lewd she must look. Her cheeks flushed with fresh shame and she squeezed her eyes shut behind her blindfold as she blew out a breath.

Thankfully, Clarice's hand grabbed her by the hair and pulled her face into her cleavage. Sandra moaned between Clarice's fat jugs. They were the biggest boobs she'd ever touched. Sandra started kissing the flesh in front of her.

"You like my melons, baby?"

"Oh Clarice! Oh thank you!"

"Thank me with your tongue!" She pulled back on Sandra's hair and fed a nipple into her mouth.

For the briefest of moments, Sandra was confused by the sensation on her tongue and lips. Then it hit her.

Oh my god, her nipples are pierced?! Well at least one of them is!

"Suck on me, Sandy girl!" Sandy began to nurse, sucking gently, having no experience with nipple piercings and afraid of hurting her lover. She laved her tit enough that her tongue could make out the barbell shape of the hardware.

Too soon her mouth was pulled away from the fantastic bosom.

"I want to spank you," Clarice said in a breathy voice. "Turn around, palms flat on the wall, bend over."

*Slap*

"Ohhhh!" Sandra squealed deliciously, shocked and grateful for the force in the blow.

*Slap*

"Ahhh!" She hoped this would never stop.

*Slap*

"Yesss!"

Her rear received no fourth spank.

"Get down on the floor, on your hands and knees!"

The hardwood cut into her knees. She relished it. Unbidden, she arched her back, lifting her ass in offering. She felt Clarice behind her, lovingly removing her shoes so she was left with only the blindfold and her panties for clothing.

Then Clarice felt her up, strong hands kneading her meaty globes. A hand slipped between her legs and pressed against the damp gusset of her thong. Sandra's head dropped as she cringed internally; Clarice chuckled but said nothing.

Sandra hoped the blindfold would never come off. How could she face Clarice after this? After letting her go so far, and clearly getting off on it. Sandra had never felt so vulnerable. She had never shared this much of her perverted desires with anyone, yet Clarice somehow understood instinctively just how to push her buttons.

Sandra's thoughts were broken by a grip in her hair.

"Crawl," came the order. Her hair was tugged forward, and she blindly pawed the air in front of her, moving like a dog on her hands and knees. It felt right. She was an animal. A bitch dog. And she was in heat.

*****************

Clarice led her bitch to her bedroom. At least there was carpeting there for her knees.

Clarice wondered if the woman at crotch-level could smell her arousal. She had stripped down to her panties while she had Sandra playing with her own titties.

She couldn't remember the last time she was this aroused. Sandra was like a dream, responding in perfect free flow to everything Clarice did. Clarice had never had a session where she felt this in sync with her partner. And they'd only just met!

As they entered the bedroom, Clarice noted with regret that her bed was in the same state as the rest of the apartment. It was a mess. All the better her guest was blind.

She had never intended to go this far tonight. When she had loaded her jacket with the panties for Sandra, she'd tossed the blindfold in too. She had figured she probably wouldn't use it. She was really interested in Sandra. She didn't want to scare her off before they got to know each other better.

On the other hand, she'd thought it could make for a picturesque good night kiss. Maybe a tasty little make-out session. Something to give the woman a sense of what was in her future. That eventually she'd find herself on her knees wearing Clarice's collar.

But not tonight! Sandra was irresistible, but Clarice knew she couldn't let this go too far tonight. She took a deep breath to calm herself down. You're an experienced domme. You're not going to let your needy cunt fuck up the most important seduction of your life.

Even as she said the words in her head, she knew her heart wasn't in them. Or better said, her cunt wasn't convinced. We can push her further, it said. Just listen to the noises she's been making, she's loving this as much as we are.

Still at war with herself, Clarice closed the door behind them.

***************

Sandra felt gratitude for the softer carpet on her knees. The sound of the door closing seemed to shake her from her lusty daze and bring her back to reality. She was blindfolded, hands and knees on the floor with her tits hanging in the breeze in a strange girl's apartment. She didn't even know Clarice's last name.

She was acting like a slut. This wasn't her. Clarice just did something to her... No! She needed to take a stand. She had principles! There were things she would NOT do tonight... what were they?

Her thoughts were brushed away by a hand between her legs, rubbing her pussy through her panties. Oh fuck.

Before she even knew what she was doing, Sandra was purring like a kitten, spreading her legs and arching her back further, humping back against Clarice's hand.

The hand pulled away. "Legs together." Sandra hurried to adopt the more modest position.

Then there were hands on her hips, sliding her panties off. They settled just above her knees.

A hand nuzzled her mound before giving her pubic hair a sharp tug. "Submissive little girls like you should be bare. I want to see a bald pussy next time I pull your panties off."

Sandra said nothing. She wished she could find some indignation being spoken to this way, but her mind focused in on the words 'next time' again. Maybe if Clarice said it enough she would start to believe it.

Clarice's hand left her sex, both hands slipping up her inner thighs, thumbs digging into her butt cheeks and lightly spreading them. Sandra didn't quite manage to stifle a whimper of humiliation. She knew the younger woman was looking right at her asshole.

The thumbs moved inward, stroking along the edge of her cleft. Clarice paused, an unspoken question. When Sandra stayed still and silent, Clarice seemed to take this as permission. A thumb pad settled firmly over her puckered asshole.

Sandra had never played with her ass. Too dirty. Too trashy. If there was going to be an obvious time to take a stand tonight, this had to be it.

She heard Clarice loudly clear her throat and then *pthtoo* a wet slap of something warm hitting the top of her crack. The thumb moved up to collect it and began smearing it on her anus.

The girl had spit on her! On her ass!

She felt the tip of the thumb start to push the saliva against the very center of her sphincter.

"Wait!" she cried out as her buttocks clenched defensively.

The thumb backed off.

Sandra started to straighten up, raising her head and just lifting her hands off the floor.

A gentle hand pressed firmly between her shoulder blades. "You're okay. I won't hurt you. Shhhhh." The hand pushed with the lightest pressure, and Sandra let herself be bent back down on all fours.

The hand kept pushing.

"Rest your cheek on the carpet. Good girl, Sandy."

She was face down, ass up now.

"Now reach back and spread your ass for me."

Sandra hesitated.

"Sandy, I want you to reach back and spread your ass. For me. Now."

Her body decided for her. Her hands grasped her buttocks and spread. Sandra whimpered into the carpet. She wanted this. She didn't want it. She couldn't decide. A droplet of honey leaked out of her naughty pussy and trickled into the crease where her thigh met her pelvis.

The sound of a bottle popping open made her open her eyes behind the blindfold. Then cold gel fell into her cleft. Another of Clarice's fingers smeared it around her anus, not her thumb, more slender.

The fingertip pressed at her opening and then paused. Sandra understood. She had all the time in the world to protest. She said nothing.

In the silence, she became aware of the sound of Clarice's breathing. She was breathing hard. Yes.

And then, without warning, the fingertip pushed inside her tight, virgin asshole.

"Oooohh." Her inexperienced sphincter clutched around the invader, trying to deal with the alien sensation. But it was no match for the well-lubed slender digit, pushing deeper inside her body.

A comforting hand patted her on the ass, gently rubbing her buttock to let her know all was well.

She was being finger-fucked in the ass. It was raunchy. Dirty. Depraved.

But the submission felt so right. Sandra squeaked and yipped into the carpet. She kept her hips raised, her glutes parted, her muscular ring as loose as she could manage. She gave herself to Clarice.

And then a pair of fingers from another hand lightly traced her labia and brushed over her hood. Her clit was already quite engorged. Sandra moaned like a whore, full-throated and animalistic. She'd never moaned that loudly before.

The burn in her anus morphed into an accent, a bit of spice added to the bubbling cauldron of her sex. Clarice's fingers rubbed her clit, and Sandra realized that in a few more seconds she was going to cum with another woman's finger up her butt.

Suddenly both hands left her body. "No!" Sandra cried out at the abrupt loss of pleasure.

"It's ok, Sandy. You've been a very good girl. I'm going to reward you."

Sandra felt her hair taken in Clarice's firm grip. It felt reassuring. Her head was moved down towards the floor until her nose brushed against what must be Clarice's foot.

"Kiss me."

Sandra puckered her lips and kissed her goddess's foot.

"Again."

Sandra kissed her again, moaning a little and sucking on the flesh she hadn't gotten enough of.

Clarice began dragging her head higher by her hair. Sandra got to kiss her ankle. Her calf. Her knee. Her soft, tender inner thigh. Sandra could smell her now. She could smell her cunt. The scent brought her pride and joy.

"Do you want to taste me, girl?"

"Oh Clarice, please!"

"I'll give you a taste, but afterwards you have to ride my leg until you cum, understand?"

"Yes Mistr- yes Clarice." Sandra hadn't meant to say, but she was as deep into sexual fantasy in this moment as she had ever been. She wondered what Clarice was thinking as she waited on her knees between the woman's legs.

No words came, but she felt tension build in her hair and then her face was pulled higher.

Her nose contacted pubic hair, and she knew she was at Clarice's mound. She nuzzled her face forward, inhaling deep. This was where she was always meant to be. On her knees, serving superior pussy. She thanked God for bringing her to this moment. And then she began to worship.

Sandra flattened her tongue along the length of Clarice's slit and gave her a slow, long ice cream cone-lick. Her lips were engorged and blossomed open. She was hairless apart from a tuft on her mound, maybe a landing strip. Sandra ran her tongue across Clarice's clit - a big, fat clit, bigger than anyone's she'd ever been with - and was rewarded with a rare moan from Clarice.

She sent her tongue lower to taste the fuck honey straight from the pot. Her taste was exquisite. Sandra lapped at her juices like a starving kitten. Passion took her, and she stiffened her tongue and drove into Clarice's tunnel.

A sharp yank on her hair pulled her away from her meal.

"That's more than a taste!" Clarice growled, out of breath.

Sandra said nothing, licking her lips, considering ripping off the blindfold and forcing herself on the woman. She had to make her cum. She had to learn just what she liked. She had to-

"Alright, come here. Wrap your arms around my leg, but no touching my cunt! Start humping, hump my ankle until you reach orgasm."

Sandra clutched Clarice's knee like a drowning woman. Her hips started to slowly gyrate, rubbing her sopping wet pussy against her Mistress's ankle. Her brain felt humiliation, but her body had been starved of its orgasm too long. It knew it could cum like this. In no time, she was bouncing her ass, humping away.

"That's it! Naughty little girl, take your pleasure, make that smutty little pussy cream for me!"

Sandra moaned in pleasure and shame. Her filthy gash was leaking her juices all over Clarice's ankle. She was marking her.

A new sound came to her ears. And a sense of motion. She realized Clarice was fingering herself as Sandra debased herself on her foot. The thought triggered her climax.

"Ohhhh! Ohhh goddd! I'm... I'm cumming! I'm CUUMMMMIINNGG!"

"Cum for me, Sandy! Cum hard!"

"Ohh!" "Ohh!" "Ohhh!" The room filled with the sounds of two women, two lewd unbridled women, reaching orgasm together.

Sandra rested her forehead against Clarice's inner thigh just above the knee. She was crying. She didn't really understand why, but she didn't fight it. A hand in her hair gently caressed her, letting her know it was alright.

"C'mon, lay on your back." Clarice guided her to the carpet. Her sore knees gasped with relief.

Sandra absently noted the sounds of Clarice moving around as she recovered from the most powerful orgasm of her life. She felt her ankles lifted into the air and then a pair of panties being shimmied up her legs. Not the thong she had come in with.

Clarice guided her arms back through her bra straps and snapped the clasp back together. Her dress was wrapped back around her and re-buttoned. Her shoes were put back on her feet. Clarice helped her to her feet and guided her back through the apartment.

The door closed behind them, and the blindfold was finally removed.

**********************

Sandra still had tears in her reddened eyes when the cloth was pulled away.

"Come here," Clarice pulled her into her arms and squeezed her tight. "That was fantastic. Thank you Sandy." Sandra held on tightly, inhaling the smell of Clarice's hair wanting to record everything in her memory. "Thank you Clarice," she whispered.

Clarice held her for a long time. When she eventually released her, it felt too soon.

"C'mon, let me buy you dinner. There's a great burger place two blocks from here," Clarice proposed offering her hand.

"Um... okay," Sandra said taking the hand with uncertainty, still not completely sure what had happened tonight.

Clarice pulled her into a kiss. She detected the faint taste of her own juices on the woman's lips.

"It's going to be fine, Sandy. It's going to be marvelous."