Sunday, February 15, 2015

A Meal of Her Loins

Continued from Muse 5: "Stakes and Lies"

Pole dancing had become boring and less challenging since Iris had mastered the class . The lessons were repetitive and she and Dianne attended less and less. They'd taken to walking and talking along the beach on balmy nights. Skinny dipping in the rock pools, comparing sexual notes, talking about moving back into the city, leaving their past - leaving Dave.  Physical contact between them had become affectionate. Lying on their stomachs on the cool sand wearing nothing but bikini bottoms, heads supported by palms and elbows, knees bent, Dianne's foot gently rubbed Iris' calf. She didn't resist. In fact she loved the contact.

Reya had given Iris a subtle warning about the friendship with Dianne after their 'fashion night'.  Without giving too much away about her own past, she intimated that Dianne's attentions were not 'normal' and asked Iris to guard her heart. 

"Iris, I know women like this, I've been in a similar situation. Be careful. She wants something from you or to take something from you."

"Oh pish Reya, we're friends. You just sound jealous."

"I was once influenced by a woman like her." Reya continued, "After I left Wiseman's in my teen years, I found digs in the city with a young woman my age. We were close, very close but it was all a sham. It was all a ploy to get me into a business that proved devastating, humiliating. In the long term, it shaped me but I suffered much before I could leave what was a terrible and abusive situation. I was conned Iris, it nearly ruined my life, and I was just a silly country girl that fell for it."

Iris wasn't really listening, didn't really care. She busied herself dressing a mannequin in the front window, imagining the body was that of Dianne's.  She had a deep respect for Reya but a burning desire for Dianne. She was sure she wasn't sexually inclined to truly love another woman, or even have sex with one, but the delightful prospect of touching that perfect body, kissing that perfect mouth, purely as an experiment, began to invade her thoughts.  She would never act on the impulse, well, unless Dianne initiated it.

Dave's thoughts were also being invaded. The lack of communication with his wife, no sex, nil attention, was driving him crazy. He'd let her have her head, learn how to dance, he'd put up with her cool demeanour, until now. 

Instead of going to bed before her, he'd left the house after her, followed her, waited for her and her new friend to leave the studio. Nothing suspicious there, just two women going for coffee. He'd seen them the other night as well, at the Goddess, laughing and playing dress ups. She never wore lingerie like that for him. By the time he had the courage to actually go into Mulligans and check out the dance lessons, she wasn't there, and he was disturbed to discover that this was no ballroom class. 

A shy and quiet man by nature, he'd waited for the class to end. As the last client left, he approached the instructor.

"Hi, I'm Dave. I'm Iris' husband. I came to pick her up but she doesn't appear to be here."

The limber woman, still wiping beads of sweat from her decolletage and cleavage, dispassionately told him that Iris hadn't attended for a couple of weeks, even though she'd paid in advance through to the end of the course.

Confused, Dave left the 'studio'. Angry that she'd lied about the type of class, furious that she lied about attending.  The green monster raised its ugly head and he was sure she was having an affair. Who with, he had no clue, but there was no erasing the thought of her in her lilac lace, fucking another man. Kissing him, fellating him, sleeping in his arms.  He couldn't go home in this 'state' and so descended the boardwalk steps and headed towards the beach to collect his thoughts, cool down, rehearse how he would challenge a deceitful and potentially unfaithful wife.

Dianne's foot, tenderly caressed the back of Iris' leg. They were sheltered beneath the stars, a bed of sand and a wall of sandstone kept them secluded from sight. Not that anyone would be wandering this way so late. This was a sleepy hamlet and a secluded section of beach that only the locals patronised. A lone fisherman, about 20 metres away, cast his line and sat on a small camping chair waiting for a bite. Dianne wasn't at all bothered about the prospect of being 'seen' but this man was intent on his catch, his back to the women.

Iris rolled onto her back, Dianne still on her stomach beside her, traced the young woman's face with a slender finger. 

"You're very beautiful Iris, you'll do well in the city." 

The finger traced the lines of Iris' jaw, along her chin and down her neck. She didn't move apart from the tiny goosebumps now rising on her forearms, and the erection of tiny nipples on shapely breasts. The finger travelled around one nipple, then the other, beneath her breasts and down to her navel. Neither women spoke as the finger slid between bikini bottom and flesh. Fingers made contact and Iris let out a whimper of delight.  Lips locked and she experienced her first girl kiss. Soft and warm, not the bristle of Dave's five-o'clock shadow but a soft and adorable lock of lips and play of tongues.  The hand on her pubes now gently working until she could feel herself dampening with delight.

Dianne disengaged from the kiss, "You alright?" she whispered. 

Iris said nothing but her barely audible moans, the firmness of her clitoris, the slight rising of her hips, spoke volumes. Dianne's tongue began to trace the same lines as her finger had as Iris' clenched fingers dug into the damp sand.

Dave blew his nose as he approached the fisherman, the tears he'd shed had made it run and he didn't want to be discovered being so unmanly.  The two men politely exchanged pleasantries.

"Good night for it!" Dave offered up but didn't stop walking.

"Yep, no bites though." The fishermen cast another line out through the breakers.

As he walked onto familiar ground, moonlight reflected something in the distance, something between the rocks, skin on skin rising and falling. A couple having risque sex, one going down on the other, thinking they're out of site. He kept walking by the shoreline, wondering if they'd see him and wishing that he and Iris had the courage to get down and dirty on a moonlit beach. He couldn't avert his gaze, the 'man' was shapely, pale with long brown hair.  Now getting to his feet and helping his partner to do the same.  

It wasn't a man at all, it was a woman, a tall, slim woman with rounded buttocks and large breasts and her partner was . . . Iris!

Dave was speechless, more hurt than if his wife had an affair with another man. What began as a distraction to his woes and a titillating moment had stabbed him through the heart as he turned and began to jog back along the beach, his chest tightening, his heart racing. He passed the fisherman without acknowledgement before falling to his knees and beginning to sob with sadness, anger, shame. While he's home eating a microwave meal, another woman, not a man, is making a meal of his wife's loins. The pain of it was intolerable.

Muse 1 "The Seventh Goddess"

Muse 2 "The Forensics of Spume"
Muse 3 "The Way of the North"  
Muse 4 "Virginal Zoophilia"   
Muse 5: "Stakes and Lies
Muse 6: "A Meal of Her Loins"   
Muse 7: "Controlled Burn"  
Muse 8: "Ghastly Truths" 
Muse 9: "To Bury a Mountain"


  1. Hah! Almost. I think you let the cat out of the bag a little early, which hurts both the pacing and the build. Rewrite this one.

    Fearless use of the Muse, however. Much applause.

  2. I liked it. Still, the continued change of POV confuses a little.

  3. Well, that was literal. I am liking how you add, one after another, thoughts ... you did not introduce all the players as important in the beginning. So, I keep switching resonance with the characters. Interested in how this will all land.

  4. Perfect use of the meme. So, Dave was the shy man outside the store?