(By Unknown)

Diane slept deeply for two hours. When she opened her eyes, late afternoon sunlight cast beams across the bed, faint motes of dust winking in and out. The light fell across her breasts and abdomen. Absently, she moved her hand across her chest, lightly caressing her full breasts. It felt good to be here, to be seeing Margot. No matter how much she enjoyed the charged life she led in Manhattan, this was home. She remembered the good times here. There was horseback riding, fishing, games, and the confidential intimacies she shared with Margot as they talked of boys and dating and the heat of sexual awareness.

Her nipples grew into hard points, visible as they tented the loose fabric of her shirt. She paused and thought, I’ve got to get moving. Barefoot, she wandered downstairs. She heard the hum of the air-conditioning, and outside the thrum of summer insects. She could barely hear some faint music coming from the northwest corner of the house. She followed it.

She came into a large paneled study. The room seemed almost an afterthought to the house, since it projected out from the rear, a separate room, with windows on three sides. Margot sat in a large chair near the west window, the sun shining down on her face, glints of red highlighting the thick falling waves of hair. She had been dozing on the chair, bare feet tucked under her, a few papers lying on her lap.

Diane walked in quietly, leaned down, and kissed her cousin on the forehead. Margot’s eyes opened, blinked in the sunlight, and she said softly, “Hello, sleepyhead.”

Diane laughed. “Who’s a sleepyhead? You’re the one bagging Z’s, babe.”

Margot stretched and yawned, her breasts compressed against her white shirt. “You about ready to go out and get some food? There’s a fairly nice place about thirty minutes from here.”

Diane sat down in a wingback chair across from her. “I could do with that. How dressy?”

“Oh, cocktail dress would be nice.”

Diane smiled a slightly wicked smile. “I’ve got something that might serve.”

“I thought you might. Shall we say in about an hour? Give us time to get clean, get our party clothes on.”


They both left the study and headed upstairs, Margot to her room at the end, Diane to hers. Diane pulled off her shirt, shorts and panties and padded naked into the old-fashioned bathroom adjoining her room. She loved the old claw-footed tub with the shower curtain hooked into a ring hanging from the ceiling. The spray would come from a large brass showerhead directly overhead.

She started the water going, adjusting the temperature. She folded her hair into a shower cap and stepped in, pulling the curtain around her. She grabbed the soap and started to wash herself, sighing luxuriantly as the water pounded down. Her breasts bounced and jiggled as she moved around, soaping the long legs. She caressed her large nipples, shivering.

Watch yourself, girl, she thought. Keep it up and you’ll be diddling yourself in the restaurant. Ever since she arrived, she had been in a state of mild arousal. Seeing Margot had awakened old feelings. She had never been entirely comfortable with her bisexuality, and had only two other encounters with women other than Margot. She was certain (well, almost certain) that she preferred men, but the failed relationships had hurt her. She had spent the last five years almost celibately. And certainly nowhere else had she explored the rough-and-tumble sexual combat that had surprised them both twenty-one years before. And then there was that one time ten years ago…. The intensity of the feelings that had provoked frightened her. But as she thought about it, she found herself imagining a fierce embrace.

Out loud, she said sharply, “No.” She shook herself and finished rinsing. She turned off the shower, pulled back the curtain, and snagged a large fluffy towel. She started to vigorously dry herself.

Diane finished her ablutions, and proceeded naked and smelling cleanly of soap and hot water into her room. She chose a pair of black bikini panties and a matching demi-bra with a plunging neckline. She worked her way into the underclothes. The panties snagged a little on her thick pubic hair. She reached down to adjust the cloth so that it fit comfortably around her pudenda. She slipped on the bra, holstering her bulbous breasts into the cups. A pair of sheer pantyhose went on next. She tugged the hose into place over her hips, compressing the flesh a little. She pulled a jet-black DKNY cocktail dress out of the armoire and stepped into it, pulling the straps on over her shoulders, adjusting the scoop neckline over her breasts. She completed the ensemble with a pair of Liz Claiborne spike heel open-toed pumps. For jewelry, she selected understated diamond stud earrings and a simple gold chain necklace with a sapphire pendant that nestled in the beginning of her cleavage. She dabbed a little Opium on her pulse points, and between her breasts. She took a brush to her hair and set it into falling waves with a few practiced strokes. She regarded her overall appearance in the mirror with a satisfied smile.

She met Margot downstairs. Margot had chosen a maroon Halston number with a plunging neckline that exposed the interior sides of her large breasts. The hemline ended a couple of inches above the knee, and her long beautifully shaped legs were sheathed in smoky pantyhose. She had on a pair of classic Ferragamo pumps, also in maroon. Her luxuriant hair fell about her shoulders. She had on a pair of turquoise and silver earrings with a matching necklace.

“Well,” Margot said, “I think we’ll knock ‘em dead.”

Diane grinned, placed her hand on her hip, and did a slow twirl. “Let’s go show them some style, baby!”

They left the house in early twilight. Comfortably seated in the air-conditioning of Margot’s Lexus, they chatted companionably about home, work, and family.

Dinner was at a stylish restaurant that specialized in Southwest cuisine. Over margaritas, the conversation drifted to their love lives.

Diane said, “I thought the thing with David would work out. But he just couldn’t deal with my independence. So he wound up with some wispy blonde thing who hangs on every word of his and drapes her insubstantial body around him.”

Margot nodded sympathetically. “Well, the hell with him.”

Diane asked, “And what about you?”

Margot sipped her drink. “Oh, there’s been a couple of good relationships. One guy I still see every now and then. Rancher type, lean and tall. Surprisingly well read. A nice sexual hit, too.” Margot smiled softly. “But I don’t know if I want to marry again. It gets…complicated.”

Their first course arrived then, efficiently served by jacketed waiters. They continued their chatter over salad, followed by a spicy chicken dish, accompanied by a good Chardonnay.

After coffee, they got in the Lexus. An almost full moon paralleled their drive back to the house. It was still very warm and sticky. They rode back in easy silence.

* Diane remembers *

It is ten years ago. Diane and Margot are in the somewhat cluttered apartment that Diane has in Greenwich Village, in a third-floor walkup. Margot had taken a long weekend away from her husband and son to make the long-promised trip to see her cousin. They have spent the evening seeing some of Manhattan. It’s a warm summer evening. Both women are clad only in bras and panties. They are on the unmade bed, sharing a pint of rich chocolate ice cream. They are lying on their stomachs, digging in the carton with small spoons, their legs tilted upward, just as they had once done as teenagers. A single twenty-five watt bulb in a table lamp illuminates the room.

They giggle about the evening, about the small off-Broadway play they had seen, which was laughably bad. They laugh about the men who tried to pick them up at the smoky jazz bar in SoHo.

Diane wants Margot to stay another day. Margot protests that she has to get back. Diane says that her family will get along without them for another twenty-four hours.

Diane suggests they arm-wrestle to see if Margot stays another day. Margot agrees. They put the melting ice cream aside and position themselves on the bed diagonally, faces close together, arms upraised.

(Across the street, a small-breasted woman wearing panties and T-shirt sits in a darkened apartment. She sees the voluptuous women across the street ready themselves.)

Margot and Diane brace themselves. Their right arms meet in firm grip. Diane says, Ready? Margo says, Yes.

They begin the contest. Diane flexes her arm and pushes. Margot pushes back. They are about evenly matched. They stare intently into each other’s eyes. The muscles on Diane’s shoulder ripple as she pushes. Margot grimaces as she summons her strength against Diane’s effort. Perspiration starts to form on their foreheads.

(The voyeur across the street is fascinated. She perches on her tall wooden stool. Unconsciously she raises one hand to her breasts and starts to caress them through the thin fabric of her T-shirt.)

The late evening New York noises outside their window are unheard by the two arm-wrestling women. It has been a dead heat for five minutes. The playful bet has become an earnest struggle.

Margot makes an extra effort. Slowly Diane’s arm begins to bend. Diane groans. She will lose if she doesn’t do something. Anything. Suddenly, Diane moves her mouth forward. She sticks out her tongue and quickly licks her cousin’s lips.

(The woman across the street now has her hand under her shirt. She twirls her nipple lazily. Her breath is starting to come faster.)

Shocked, Margot’s arm is bent backward to the mattress. She shouts, unfair! We go again!

Diane says, Okay. They take a couple of minutes to knead the tired muscles, and position themselves again.

They are at it for just a few minutes, straining, when Margot pushes her open mouth onto Diane’s. Diane pushes back, their lips bruisingly hard against each other. Their arms continue to push against each other. Diane’s tongue works its pink way into Margot’s mouth. They fight and press with their tongues, breath coming in gasps, as their hands clench each other and push.

(The woman across the street has worked her left hand under her panties. She strokes herself and moans as she continues her pulling and twisting on her hard and erect nipple.)

Margot’s arm is pressed back closer to the mattress. She decides to take another tack. She reaches with her left hand and grasps Diane’s long brown hair and slowly starts to pull. Diane pulls her mouth away from the battle with Margot, and grunts. With her own left hand, she grabs a double handful of Margot’s auburn mop, and she also pulls. They strengthen their grip and pull steadily. Their eyes are closed as their heads start to approach the mattress. Their breathing gets rough, and they start to whimper.

Margot lets go with both hands and pries Diane’s hand away from her hair. She swings herself around and lands on Diane’s back. She grabs Diane’s shoulders and pulls her from her prone position and flips her around. Both women reach out with strong arms into a fierce embrace. They feel their underwear against each other. Their breasts slam together, the edges of the bras lightly scratching the soft flesh.

(The voyeur has her finger sliding ever faster along the lips of her cunt. She had pulled her T-shirt up so that her breasts are visible. She is sweating as her breath comes faster.)

Diane presses her leg up between Margot’s thighs. Margot’s mound feels the contact through her panties, which are quite wet. Diane violently catapults her hips upward and flips her cousin around. Now Diane is on top. Their breasts slide together, perspiration making them shiny and slick. They grapple.

Margot reaches with one hand and pulls down on Diane’s bra strap. It slides down her shoulder, and Diane’s left breast is exposed, the nipple a hard, sensitive point. She pulls the other strap, and Diane’s other tit frees itself.

Diane twists the front of Margot’s bra. The hook pops open, and Margot’s breasts fall out, slapping against Diane’s. Diane slams her body down and their breasts hit each other, nipples poking and meeting with sudden shocks of sensation.

(The woman across the street watches through narrowed eyes. The crotch of her panties is soaked as she urgently fingers herself.)

Margot and Diane continue their sexual battle. Diane straddles her cousin and Margot opens her legs wide. Their wet panties begin to slide against each other as a slow humping begins. Diane leans down and presses her open mouth against Margot’s lips. They twirl their tongues together, moaning their need. Their soaked panties begin to fold within the lips of their cunts. They begin to feel the rough caress of cunt against cunt as the heated staccato beat of their hips intensifies. Margot slides her hands down to Diane’s ass and slips her hands under the panties. She grips strongly as her hands pull Diane’s hips down on top of her. Diane does the same thing, and they are pummeling their hips together, fingers digging into their cheeks as they cry out incoherently.

Under the dim glow of the bedside lamp, they scream together as Diane arches her back and Margot presses her crotch upward, lifting her cousin a foot off the bed. Their mutual orgasm pierces the New York night as their throbbing clits meet, as their liquid molten pleasure shakes them.

(The voyeur’s finger slips inside her cunt and presses firmly on the g-spot. She ejaculates and cries her own climax. Her juices make a fragrant puddle on the wooden chair of the stool. She slides off the stool and falls onto the floor, curled on her side, slowly caressing her clit.)

Margot decides to stay one more day.

To be Continued