The Corner of H & L (10)

I showed her to the bathroom and took the opportunity – for the first time, really – to look her over completely. The main thing about her was – she was huge. She ducked under doorways. My eye-level to her was … well … right into her cleavage. The cleavage that loomed out at me, less than a foot away, as we spoke. The deep ‘V’ of smooth, fresh, olive skin – that quivering crevice of flesh – hovered so invitingly in front of me; the curved shadows where her breasts nestled together asked to be touched, to be kissed. She obviously enjoyed that I stared; she rolled her shoulders back, let her chest heave as she breathed, and kept herself facing me and close enough that I could smell her skin, close enough that I would have to crane my neck to look into her face. But we didn’t touch, and even with the proximity she was somehow distant.

She finally turned away from me, into the bathroom, and my eyes finally got the chance to flit over the rest of her body. She had a good figure: broad-shouldered, but not stocky – voluptuous, instead. Her hips curved away from the small of her back and blossomed into a full, round bottom, which nearly peeked out from beneath very short black leather dress. Her thighs were thick, almost chubby, but poured into a pair of curve-forming stockings. Her legs disappeared a few inches above the knees into those leather boots – the ones with the dancer heels that made her a giant. That she could be so smooth and casual in the heels despite her height was mildly amazing.

Over the dress she wore that heavy, obscuring black jacket with rolled-up sleeves that just covered the tops of the gloves, only occasionally allowing glimpses of the nylon bodystocking (so it was a catsuit, not just stockings) beneath.

The door to the bathroom shut, and, freed from the slavery of staring at her, I hurried to my own bedroom.

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Cheating Life – 11.3

With nothing else to do, I crossed glumly to the left door. It was ajar and dark behind, and flished open when I touched the panel. It would have been more ominous if it had creaked, but doors don’t do much creaking anymore. I stepped through and called out, “Hello?”

From the other side of the room, a lively voice replied, “Oh, come on in, Honey. And shut the door behind you!”

I touched the door closed, and heard a mechanism inside snikt into place – another touch on the panel confirmed that it had locked itself out of my control. I was in the room for good, now, so I sunk into the deep couch just inside the door. At least the lights had brightened.

Claire’s room had the same basic features as Jane’s – huge, divided into several sitting areas, a kitchenette, a wall of windows looking out over the city, and a large sunken circle framing an enormous bed. The colors and the overall feel were very different, though – the furniture was cut from some lightly varnished wood or painted an antiqued creamy color, and red brick accented the walls, steps, and windowsills. The room was warm, and everything was decorated to match, but it was too large and uncluttered to be cozy. Like Jane’s room, a pair of heavy wooden doors hid in the back corner, but these were open, and light and preening noises drifted from them. And then the voice:

“I’m just taking a moment to touch up; I only got back from the show just now, so I haven’t had time to change. Take off your shoes and go sit at the foot of the bed.”

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