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“Lada dedadeda de, la de da, la de da,” Carla hummed a snippet of Mozart’s Minuet in G to herself as she dialed the phone. “Hi, Carla! What are you up to, girlfriend?” Alice asked into the phone. “How did you know… oh, duh. Caller ID. Silly me. I just finished an experiment, and thought I’d bring it over to share, and get yours and Gerald’s opinion on it,” Carla replied. “Experiment, huh? So you want me to be your guinea pig? How do I know it’s edible? What is it, anyway?” “I promised the Women’s Club I’d bring a homemade cheese cake to our next meeting, and since I hadn’t made one in about three years, thought I’d better do an experimental run. I think it’s pretty good, but I upped the ratio of lemon juice, and wanted someone who isn’t quite as enamored of tart flavors as I to taste it.” “Well, I can taste it for you, but if you want Gerald’s opinion, you’ve called on the wrong weekend. He and his brother Ron are in Maine, salmon fishing with their father this week.” “Oh, yeah. I forgot about that,” Carla lied. “Well, you can taste it and see what you think. That is, if you haven’t anything on today.” “Well, actually, I AM clothed, but that could be easily remedied,” Alice laughed. “Smart ass,” Carla replied. “Not on, as in ‘wearing anything’, Silly; on as in ‘going on’.” “Nothing special. I was just going to do some laundry, and read Lush stories on my laptop while I sit on the washer during the spin cycle.” Carla giggled, and said, “I’ll be over in about fifteen … no, on second thought, make that an hour. That way, you’ll have time to get yourself off and catch your breath before I get there.” “Why not just come over now? You can help.” “Help you do laundry?” Carla asked in mock horror. “No, Silly. The other.” Carla giggled. “I thought you’d never ask. I’ll be right over.” She hung up the phone, gathered up her purse and the cheese cake, and headed toward the front door. She glanced at herself in the hall mirror as she passed, and suddenly realized she needed to put something on over the tank top, in case she should meet anyone on the street. It would never do to put someone’s eye out with these sharp nipples, she thought to herself, as she pulled a sweatshirt over her head. She slipped her feet into a pair of flats, and went out the door. Alice was frantically running around the living room, gathering bits and pieces of clothing Maltepe Escort in her arms. Oh, Lord, that would have been embarrassing, she thought as she snagged Gerald’s tie and one of his socks from atop the curtain rod. Her mind wandered back to the previous night’s frolicking. I don’t think we’ve been that eager to tear into each other’s clothing since that first night in this house five years ago, she thought. It’s amazing what a few erotic email messages during the day can do for your evenings. Then, thinking about Carla’s eminent arrival, I wonder which roll we left on the piano. Oh well, it doesn’t matter. I’m sure it’s something suitable. “Lada dedadeda de, la de da, la de da,” she hummed to herself as she climbed the stairs with an armload of clothing. Bing-bong! The doorbell rang just as Alice unceremoniously dumped the armload of clothing onto the bed. “It’s open!” she shouted, assuming it was Carla, and not the UPS man or somebody else. Com’on in. I’m upstairs, putting clothes away. There’s coffee in the kitchen. I’ll be right down.” Carla let herself in, and went through the living room to the dining room toward the kitchen. She saw what appeared to be one of Gerald’s socks lying in the open piano, and smiled to herself. Setting the cheese cake on the counter, she opened a cupboard and took out a coffee mug. She was just finished filling it, when Alice appeared in the doorway, her finger hooked through the handle of an empty mug. “While you’re at it, do you mind giving me a refill?” Alice asked. “Not at all. While I fix our coffee, and slice the cake, you can go take the dust rag out of the piano,” Carla said, and gave Alice a big grin. Alice blushed, set the coffee mug down, and hurriedly left the room. Presently, she reappeared, tucking something into the pocket of her jeans. Carla, seeing her chance to needle a bit, said, “I like to put my socks into my jeans pockets when I wash them. That way, I’m not giving one away each time I do a load of laundry.” Alice burst out laughing, then. “Busted,” she said. “Can’t snake anything past you, can I?” She took the sock back out of her pocket, and laid it on the edge of the counter. “I saw some of the email messages yesterday,” Carla said. “I don’t know why Gerald keeps forgetting that nothing on a company computer is private. Sometimes, for an attorney, Maltepe Escort Bayan he is incredibly trusting.” “Speaking of attorneys, what is my favorite kinky female attorney doing in a Women’s Club? I thought that was a bunch of old blue-stockings sitting around talking about aphids on the heliotrope and how to beautify the neighborhood. You know; Lady Bird saying, ‘Plant a sher-ub’ and such.” “It’s a long story. Let’s cut the cake, and I’ll tell you, while you taste it.” Alice handed Carla a knife, and went into the dining room to get two dessert plates. “Here,” she said, setting them on the counter next to Carla. “Put it on these, and bring them into the dining room. I’ll take the mugs of coffee in, and get out a couple of forks and napkins.” As they ate their cheese cake, Carla explained how, when she was an undergraduate student, majoring in horticulture and business, she thought it might be wise to join a local garden club. “So after I passed the bar, and moved here, they forwarded my contact information to the local Women’s Club. I was going to ignore them, but then I thought maybe it would be a way to meet some discreet like-minded women.” “Closet dykes, you mean?” asked Alice. “Yes, though you needn’t be quite so crass about it. And, as it turns out, quite a few of those, what did you call them? Blue-stockings? Have some VERY kinky skeletons in the closet. They are also a convenient source of divorce casework.” “Horticulture, huh? What’s that old adage? You can lead a horticulture …” “But you can’t make her think,” finished Carla. “Yes, I’ve heard them all. Now, of course, I legally charge for my services.” “Okay, okay!” laughed Alice. “Enough with the bad puns, already. You’ll make coffee come out of my nose.” “What’s in a name? That which we call a nose still smells …” “STOP IT!” Alice exclaimed, laughing. “… what we eat,” Carla finished. “Speaking of which, what do you think?” “It’s pretty good,” Alice said. “But I’ll bet I know what would improve it.” “What’s that?” “I’ll show you.” Alice stood then, and took up the empty plates, heading to the kitchen. She crossed over to the counter, and sliced another piece of cheese cake and placed it on one plate. Carrying it through the dining room, she said over her shoulder, “Well, are you coming or not?” “Where?” Carla started to Escort Maltepe ask, and then her mouth formed an ‘O’ as Alice opened the door to the basement stairs, and flicked on the light. Alice led the way down the stairs, and pressed a switch at the bottom. The room lighting dimmed and Carla found herself stepping off the bottom step into the wine cellar of an old French bistro. The walls were dingy with what appeared to be tobacco smoke stains, and the vaulted ceiling was plastered with labels peeled from bottles. There were several wall sconces. Alice crossed the room to a small table along one wall, and opening a drawer, withdrew a box of wooden matches. She struck one and proceeded to light the candles in the sconces. “Oh, my!” Carla exclaimed. “You guys really did this room up right, didn’t you?” “Well,” Alice replied over her shoulder, “Gerald and I wanted a wine tasting room, and after we put in the vaulting, he had the bright idea to paint the walls with a mix of yellows and browns, to imitate the smoke-stained walls of an old European-style bistro wine cellar. Then we really got ‘into it’ and decided to plaster the ceiling with all those labels we had been keeping in our wine tasting card file. Here’s what I thought ought to go with the cheesecake.” She placed a bottle of Penfolds Grandfather Port on the small tasting table. Reaching into the cupboard beneath the table, she got out a pair of Reidel port glasses, and poured a generous measure into each. Carla reached for her glass, and Alice stopped her, saying, “Wait. Try this; the pièce de résistance ,” and popped a small chocolate truffle into Carla’s open mouth. Carla let the chocolate melt in her mouth, and followed it with a sip of port. She could taste the almost too sweet, too sharp chocolate flavor being dissolved, absorbed and smoothed by the flavors of the port. “Oh. My. God.” she whispered. “That is positively orgasmic.” She could feel her crotch swelling, and clamped her legs together. “Now have a bite of cheesecake,” Alice suggested. “But you’re too far away, Dear,” Carla giggled. “Smart ass.” “Everyone needs one …” Carla started to say. “It helps you sit better,” they said in unison, and burst into laughter. Carla had a small bite of cheesecake as instructed, and was pleasantly surprised to find the tangy, slightly citrusy flavor of the lemon cheesecake made a perfect complement to the sultry sweet warmth of the chocolate and port. Alice stood up from her stool at the tasting table, and went ‘round to Carla’s back. Wrapping her arms around Carla’s waist, she nuzzled the side of Carla’s neck and softly breathed into her ear, “Wait here, and have another sip of port.