Bidding War (29 page)

I thought about it.

"I don't know," I finally said in a small voice.

"Are you scared?"

"Nervous."

"Are you touching your nipples?"

"Not at this exactly second. I'm clasping the bedding."

"Oh? Why?"

"I'm trying to control my squirming!"

"You keep trying to take control, Pamela, but is that what you really want?"

"I don't know," I said in a small voice.

"You'll have more fun if you surrender to me."

"Oh god," I said. The thought send shivers up and down my spin. "I know. But I'm afraid where that will leave us."

"It will leave you very satisfied. And it will take the edge off of me so when I arrive tomorrow, I can control myself at least long enough to enjoy the meal you make me."

"Is that why you're doing this?"

"Yes. And because it's fun. Aren't you having fun?"

"Yes." I paused and licked my lips. "Gwendolyn, this is wrong."

"Why?"

"Because." I couldn't give an answer.

"Were you going to let me seduce you tomorrow?"

"I don't know."

"Honey, you promised not to lie."

"If you come on too strong, it will scare me. I might react badly. I might react badly just from you touching me."

"Close your eyes, Pamela," she said. "Imagine me there with you. Relax your hands on the bedding. Imagine me caressing your face and stroking your hair, very gently."

"That would feel nice," I told her. I had my eyes closed, and with her whispering in my ear, it was almost like she was there.

"Reach up with your free hand and caress you lips," she said. "Imagine I am brushing you with a kiss."

I slowly brushed my lips with my fingers.

"Does that feel nice?"

"Yes."

"Brush my lips across yours again, and then move me to your left nipple."

I brushed my lips with my fingers again, imagining her lips, then moved my fingers to my nipple.

"Do you like my lips wrapping gently around your nipple?"

"Yes," I said, a little breathlessly.

"Do you want me to stop, Pamela?"

"No, but I'm still scared."

"I am doing to myself everything I am telling you to do, Pamela," she said. "Imagine your ankles tied like mine are."

"Are yours really tied?"

"Yes," she said. "Exactly like I told you."

I crossed my own ankles and spread my legs, imagining she had tied them that way. I didn't tell her that.

"What are my lips doing to your nipple, Pamela?"

"Twirling," I said. "You have very clever lips."

She laughed. "Do you like them?"

"Yes. Now they're pinching, just a tiny bit. My nipple is very engorged."

"I bet the right one is feeling lonely. It's time to move to your right nipple."

I heard a gasp from her, and I echoed it as soon as I moved my fingers to the other nipple. I heard her breath rapidly for a moment.

"Do you enjoy surrendering to my voice, Pamela?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Because you know it feels good," she told me. "Don't you?"

"Yes."

"You know I can give you an eleven, with a little practice. What's the best you've had before?"

I sighed. "A two, maybe a four once. But maybe it was really a ten, and everyone is lying when they talk about the world shaking."

She laughed. "They aren't lying." She paused and gasped. "It's time for my lips to move lower now, Pamela."

"No."

"Yes. Slide your fingers down to your belly button. Imagine me kissing you there, then more kisses over your pelvis on both sides."

"Oh god," I said. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you need this," she said. "So do I. Can you feel me kissing your pelvis?"

"Yes. It feels nice."

"Yes, it does. This is one of my favorite places to kiss. Does it tickle?"

"A little."

"Imagine my hair brushing you while I'm kissing you there."

I started to squirm again.

"Now, it's time to slide the hem of your skirt up."

"I'm not ready for that."

"Yes, Pamela, you are. Slide your skirt up. Be a good girl."

"You're asking me to be a naughty girl."

"This isn't naughty," she said. "Don't let puritans who have been gone for two hundred years dictate to you what is right and wrong."

I thought about it and realized she was right.

"It's wrong if someone gets hurt, honey. No one is getting hurt, and it feels nice to surrender to me." She paused. "Doesn't it?"

"Yes." It was a whimper.

"Slide your skirt up, Pamela."

"All right." I reached down, wriggled around a little, and pulled my skirt up so it was bunched around my waist, my panties exposed to the air.

"What color panties are you wearing?"

"Black," I said.

"Are they nice panties?"

"They're okay."

"Are you going to be wearing nice panties tomorrow night?"

"Oh god!"

"Are you?"

"Yes."

"Am I going to see them?"

"Gwendolyn-"

"Am I?"

"Yes."

I heard her smile.

"Imagine me kissing you right at the top of your panties," she said.

"No. I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"No. Too much."

"All right. Imagine I am touching you, sliding my fingers along the outside of the waistline of your panties."

I slide my hand slowly along the waistline, from one pelvis to the other.

"Then back to the middle before sliding down. Can you feel me?"

"Yes."

"Use the back of your fingernail, and slide it along your mound."

I did it, gasping and squirming. I heard her gasp with me.

"Oh, that feels nice, doesn't it?"

"Yes." I did it again and gasped.

"Just do that, slowly, a few more times," she said. "Imagine my hands, imagine me kneeling over you, smiling at you, but you can't see because you have closed your eyes, lost in the sensations you're enjoying so much."

"Gwendolyn-"

"It feels so good, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"The guys don't know how to do this, but I do, Pamela, I am very, very good at this."

"I know."

"Do you want to stop?"

"No!"

"No more balking then, or you'll hurt my feelings. It feels so good, you don't want me to stop. You trust me, don't you?"

"Yes."

I couldn't stop squirming or running my finger along my sex. My panties were soaked with my juices, and it was getting worse.

"Slide your fingers inside your panties now, Pamela. Use them to spread your labia and find your clitoris."

"Oh- Oh-" I said as my fingers rubbed against my little nub. It was already engorged and sensitive.

I heard her gasp, and then she was quiet for a moment, then she let out a deep breath.

"Did you just come?"

"Yes."

"So easily?"

"Are your fingers touching your clitoris, Pamela?"

"Yes."

"It feels so good, doesn't it, surrendering to my voice, surrendering to your body's needs."

"Yes."

"This is what you need, isn't it?"

"No. I need you doing it in person."

"Soon. Slide your middle finger inside your slit now, slowly."

"Oh..."

"That's nice too, isn't it?"

"Yes. Oh Gwendolyn."

"You will come very soon, Pamela. Not quite yet, but very soon, and when you do, you will say my name, over and over while you are coming, won't you?"

"Yes."

"I am the one giving you these pleasures, pleasures you deeply need and enjoy."

"Yes," I said, breathlessly and gasping.

"Have you ever penetrated yourself, Pamela?"

"I don't want to answer that."

"I need to know, Pamela."

Although my eyes were closed, and she was only on the phone, I found myself looking to the side as if to hide my face. I felt myself blushing. "No."

"We're going to do this very slowly then," she said. "Slide your middle finger slowly, very slowly into your vagina. Feel how wet it is, how good it feels."

"No...." I said quietly.

"Surrender, Pamela. Trust me. Do this for me. Please. Do this for me and for yourself. Middle finger now. Slowly."

"Yes, Gwendolyn," I said. Slowly I slide my middle finger inside my vagina, the slick walls wrapping loosely around my finger. It was warm and damp and felt good, so good.

"Slowly now, she said, slide out, then back in, very carefully."

I did what she said and moaned.

"Now I the next time, I want you to add your ring finger. Middle finger and ring finger, slide them in together now."

"Yes," I said, barely a whisper, completely lost to her voice. I slide my fingers inside myself, and my vagina closed around them both, and it was snug and wonderful.

"Press them in as far as you can and hold them there," she said. "As far as you can."

"Oh Gwendolyn," I said. "I've never done this."

"I know, but it feels nice, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"Are your fingers in all the way?"

"Yes."

"Do you know where your g-spot is?"

"Gwendolyn, please don't ask."

"Honey, it's okay. I want you to curl your fingers as if you are making a come hither gesture. Press the pads of your fingers against the walls of your vagina and brush them there."

"Oh!"

"Did you like that?"

"Yes!"

"Do it again."

"Don't stop. Oh Gwendolyn!"

"If you can, use your thumb to tease your clitoris, or the ball of your hand."

"Oh god! Oh god!"

"Don't stop now, Pamela."

"Go slow now," she ordered. "Let it build, Pamela."

"I can't. Oh god!" I felt the waves start to roll over me, and then they burst through me. "Gwendolyn!" I screamed, then again.

The shudders took over, and the muscles of my vagina clamped down on my fingers, my hips bucking as I squirmed and squirmed, my fingers now just pressing tightly against my g-spot, a place I didn't even know I had, the shudders making me squirm enough I continued to receive stimulation.

Finally I collapsed against the bed, quietly saying her name over and over until I stilled.

"Better than a two?" she asked quietly.

"Yes. Why did you do that to me?"

"Because I wanted to help you learn pleasure."

I sat there panting for a few minutes.

"What about you?" I finally asked.

"Honey," she said. "I've had three orgasms since we started."

"No way!"

"You caught one of them. That was the second. The third came while you were screaming my name."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Were the good?"

"The first two were small. The last one wasn't as big as yours, but it was nice. I'll be able to behave myself for at least a little while tomorrow."

I laughed. "You better. I took the afternoon off."

"You're trying to show off?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Um."

"My legs are still tied. The truth."

"I want you to know I can take care of you."

"Oh Pamela," she said. "Thank you."

We murmured at each other for a few more minutes, then she said, "I think it's time I untie my legs, and maybe you want to climb into jammies. What time tomorrow?"

"Is five thirty okay?"

"Five thirty is perfect. Should I bring anything?"

"Just yourself."

"Bottle of wine?"

I thought about it. "No. If I let you touch me, I don't want to be able to blame alcohol."

"See you tomorrow." And then we hung up.

* * *

Moira's call came just a few minutes later. I was still in bed, three quarters naked. As soon as I answered, I felt myself begin to blush.

"Is everything all right?" she asked immediately.

"Yes. Just."

"Yes?"

"I'm. Um."

"Are you alone?"