I met Catherine, an obviously wealthy White woman, at a fundraiser luncheon in Charleston South Carolina. Obviously, yes obviously, wealthy. I lust for expensive clothing, jewelry and scents I might never afford and she had it all. White? Yes she was White. I only mention it because I am Black and our races play an important but not racist role in this story. I was invited to the luncheon, I believe, because I had just sold my business and had some recent press notoriety and a few dollars from the sale and oh yes, I am Black. I think there was a quota.
Catherine mistook me for an old friend, Jessica, and as I turned away from her, approached me from behind.
“Jessie? Behind you, it’s Cathy.”
I turned and extended my hand, “Well hello Cathy, I’m Anne.” (I know, I know, it’s Annie but in some situations, if I am the slightest bit insecure, I switch to the more formal Anne.)
Her whole being that seemed alive with hope when I first turned to face her dimmed with my introduction.
“Oh, I am so sorry, I was hoping… I though you were my friend Jessica.”
My hand stayed extended and empty as I looked at this obviously disappointed woman. I put my hand down and tried to rescue the moment but before I could say a word Cathy said, “Ah, Anne, I’m so rude, I’m Cathrine. It’s nice to meet you.” Cathy became Catherine in the blink of an eye. She put her hands on my arms, kissed my cheek and continued, “I was just so sure you were my friend Jessica… but I have not seen her in years… and I was hoping …but you are not her …you look exactly as I remember her… but it’s been a long time.”
I had a feeling this older woman, Catherine was uncharacteristically babbling. I stopped her when I took one of her hands in mine leaned in and said, “Catherine, why don’t we sit and talk, get to know each other?” Nothing deep, nothing fancy, just an honest gesture toward perhaps a new friend. We moved to a nearby unoccupied cocktail table. After some, where do you live, who do we both know, where did you go to school, conversation she asked me to tea at her nearby home after the luncheon.
While we sat next to each other through the meal, and a boring endless list of speakers, I had a chance to get to know a very nice woman I would probably otherwise never have met. The luncheon ended and Catherine again suggested tea at her home “only a few miles away.” I asked if I could follow her after I get my car from valet parking. Walking together we approached the hotel door man and valet parking station just as the door man was hanging up a wall mounted phone. the door man.
He looked directly a Catherine. “Good afternoon Mrs. Driscoll! I have asked that your car be brought around. Richard should be here momentarily.” A big smile from the door man, no doubt anticipating a tip. Catherine then did something that surprised me but I think was second nature to her. She took my valet claim check and put it on top of a folded bill and handed them to the door man. I did not see how much money she gave him but it’s a safe bet it was not five dollars.
Speaking to the door man, Catherine said, “Winston, my friend Jessica and I will be traveling in my car. Would you be so kind as to have one of your men deliver her car to my home? Please put any charges on my husbands account. Richard will of course return your driver to the hotel.”
“My pleasure ma’am!”
With only a few words, my car would arrive at my destination without me in it and I was Jessica again.
A large silver car arrived, not a limousine really but rather one of those cars with “Town Car” in chrome letters on the roof near the rear door and lots of comfortable leather inside. The hotel door man held the rear door open and Catherine and I got in. The car started to move away from the curb and Catherine spoke to the driver, “Richard, please take us home please.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Catherine continued, “Later today a hotel driver will bring my friend Anne’s car to ‘Four Oaks’ and leave it with you. Please see that the driver gets back to the hotel and Anne’s car is serviced and ready when she needs it. You may leave the keys on the entry hall table when it is ready.”
“Yes ma’am.”
I was learning. Richard is her driver. She hears yes ma’am a lot. The house has a name. I am Anne again.
We drove for only 20 minutes to a beautiful estate South of Charleston. Long driveway leading to a beautiful home, overlooking a marsh with open water in the close distance. Richard opened our door and politely helped us out. As we were walking to the front door he drove the car away.
We approached the house the front door was opened from the inside by a woman dressed in a casual business suit. She spoke to Catherine, “Welcome home Miss Catherine, Mr. Driscoll asked me to tell you he is delayed at the office.” Catherine answered, “Thank you, Joan. I won’t be needing you again today. You can just head on home if you like or wait for Haywood to arrive.” She beylikdüzü escort added, “Oh, Joan, just one more thing, before you leave, would you please tell Alice that I would like tea for myself and my guest served on my balcony in one half hour.” She added, “Oh, and please tell Richard we will not be needing him again today.”
“Yes ma’am.”
That was it, no introduction. I was standing right there, invisible. It took me a moment or two to understand what was happening. Joan, Richard and Alice, the tea lady, are employees. I was clearly out of my element. I’m not sure this would even happen today. Do some wealthy people still employ servants? Joan, a White woman about forty years old had addressed Catherine as “Miss Catherine” but Catherine’s husband, Haywood Driscoll As “Mr. Driscoll.”
Catherine led me upstairs to “her rooms.” We entered a large living area, a den or study. I could see her bedroom through double doors on one wall. On the other wall again through double doors was a balcony that overlooked the marsh and river beyond. Another door, I would learn later led to a large closet and dressing room. She turned to me and said “Anne, why don’t you join me on the balcony? Tea will arrive shortly.” I followed her to the balcony. It was easy and relaxed being with her.
The rather balcony overlooked a boardwalk on the marsh that led to a dock with a small boat tied to it.
Catherine appeared to be about 65, perhaps fifteen years my senior at that time, but still very much a very attractive woman. I would later learn she had just turned 70.
We sat and she suggested, “Jessie, please tell me all about your adventures while you were away.”
She called me Jessica again but not Jessica, Jessie. I was becoming concerned that she was not fully aware of who I really was and that I was not her friend Jessica. Before I could say anything she stood and walked over to the edge of the balcony with her hand on the railing. I moved and stood beside her. We were one level up in the house but the land slopped down toward the dock so it gave you the illusion that you were very high in the air.
As I stood beside her I too put my hand on the rail next to hers, just to steady myself. As I looked at our hands side by side I saw where I would be in the future. At Fifty I was standing next to a woman who was older and our hards told me everything perhaps about where I too would be in only a few years. Hers was a hand that revealed an older woman, a hand that at one time had worked hard and had scars to show for it. She put her hand on mine and said, “Beautiful view isn’t it? I am always grateful for what Mother Nature has given us here in the Low Country.” She was referring of course to the name many local give this coastal area of South Carolina.
Alice arrived with tea, put it on the table and spoke to Catherine, “Will the be anything else ma’am?”
Catherine replied, “No Alice, thank you.” With that exchange we sat and Catherine served tea.
It seemed she had forgotten that only moments before she had asked Jessica to fill her in because she started talking and without me asking a question she told me that many years ago she fell in love with Jessica. They were childhood friends and were eighteen when they discovered they were more, much more than just friends. She said she always regretted their decision to split. Back then, she said, two women living together would have been hard but Jessica was Black and living together as a multi racial same sex couple would have been nearly impossible.
Catherine confessed that she had no expectations for the day we were spending together. She just wanted to look at me and think of Jessica and talk to me about my life, her life, Jessica and what might have been.
I took her soft and warm hand in mine. The contrast between her pale almost transparent skin and my so much darker skin was remarkable. We took our tea into her den and sat side by side. I had a feeling of wanting to be closer to her, comfort her, and I physically moved closer on the couch. I remember her smell, clean and fresh and not of perfume. She put her hand on my thigh just at the hemline of my dress and moved it up slightly perhaps teasing me.
In the course of the afternoon I felt that I was reading a book as she told me how they met how they swam nude in the lake and walked me through to the day they parted. Nothing she said, not a word was really about intimacy in any way, not a word, so I asked.
Catherine explained that as teens with little or no sexual experience their discovery of each other’s bodies and emotions was awkward and sometimes even funny. She recalled that Jessica had much larger breasts and how they both laughed when they discovered, while swimming nude, that her breasts seemed to float independent of her body. They kissed that first time on a dare and how that kiss and those that followed was what lit the fire. She told me that over a few months they touched ‘private places’ avcılar escort and they had held each other naked. They were already in a close physical and emotional relationship and making love was only a moment away but fate intervened. They were discovered together in the boat house, naked in the shower, and almost before it began, it ended. They tried to sneak away but Jessica’s parents moved and took her with them. Then over time life got in the way.
I had opened the floodgates and her life story poured out. She explained that there were men and women in college but no lasting love. A few years after college she met and married a man she thought she loved but there was always something missing and it ended in a divorce when she caught him cheating. Then she met Heywood and her life changed again but not in the way you might imagine. Catherine said she loved him but their love was much more friendship and companionship than passion.
Oh sure they had sex, much more so when they were younger than now, but even that sex was based more on sexual tension release than passion.
I was surprised that she felt a need to explain but she went on. She paused however to apologize for her language. “Without a little blue pill Haywood no longer has the ability to maintain an erection so that we can have real intercourse, he can’t get it up. With the right hand and mouth stimulation he gets somewhat hard and can ejaculate. In other words if I jerk him off, finger his prostate and suck him he can cum, most often in my mouth. That of course leaves me unsatisfied with an acid stomach and alone in my bed with my battery powered friend.”
She continued, “The answer of course is the little blue pill. That makes him very hard but it also makes it difficult for him to cum so I inevitably am sore for days after the pounding. So, Jessie we are caught in a no win situation where one of us is not going to be happy. We have fallen into what I call the lazy way out. I give him a great blow job, he cums in my mouth and I pretend to be happy. I’m then left to find a way to please myself. She smiled and told me she was trusting me with a not so secret secret. Richard drives more than just my car and Haywood knows.”
I was learning more than I wanted to know so I shifted the conversation back to Jessica. I had a thought and asked Catherine if when they were together she called her Jessica or Jessie?
I added, “Were you Catherine or Cathy?”
She took both of my hands in hers and asked: “Anne, how did you know that? No one calls me Cathy but she did.”
I replied: “Please call me Annie.”
We were very close on the couch. I put my hands on each side of her face and she leaned looking for a kiss I think. With my eyes and hers wide open we were kissing and I thought I saw a spark in the cool grey of her eyes. It was a very gentle but still intense kiss. Her eyes I think were open staring looking for Jessie in my eyes. When she parted her lips I slipped my tongue between them ever so gently. Almost speaking into my mouth she said: “Annie, we don’t have to do this.”
I simply said: “Let me.”
Our mouths were inches from each other.
For a long moment or two she looked in my eyes and said nothing. I felt the fear in her. Fear, I sensed that it would not be as she had thought over the years.
Then suddenly she took my hands, looked at me smiled and said almost like a teen, “Jessie, we can’t kiss here someone will see us! Lets go where we can be alone.” Cathy stood up, took my hand, and led me from the study. When we reached the bedroom she turned and locked the door. She looked at me and said: “I’m sure no one saw us. Quick, into the shower.” Cathy, was again replaying a scene she had no doubt relived many times in her mind.
Cathy reached into the walk in shower and turned on the water that flowed from overhead rainfall shower heads. She stepped toward me pushing me back with her body and lips on mine until I was against the wall. This was not the same kiss as the one in her study. It was filled with passion want and need. It was a kiss that I myself had given to someone only when I wanted my body to melt into theirs. I returned the kiss with equal passion. She was taking my clothes off.
Cathy pulled my top up over my head and stopped to touch my breasts through my bra. In a fever of kissing and touching we were both naked and as I held her I caught our image in a full length mirror.
The beautiful pale white skin of her thigh against the black of mine was very erotic. I wanted this woman, I wanted her to want me. In the shower we washed each other playing the role of two teens swimming in the lake but, I at least, knew that this time every inch would be tasted later. When I reached to wash between her legs she was smooth and hairless except for a tuft of greying black just above her mons.
When my breasts pressed against hers I felt her nipples pressing back into me. She had beautiful medium size, soft but firm and esenyurt escort round, breasts. Her nipples were long and very thick. When I pinched one gently she said, “Yes.”
Her hands were insatiable as she touched me everywhere. My legs, my feet, my butt, between my legs and ass cheeks everywhere. She came close, closed her eyes and cupped and kissed my breasts letting her hands be her eyes. With her in my arms I felt the anticipation, the hesitancy of a woman with a need, a deep and longstanding need, to be loved by another woman. I held her as the water poured over us. When she turned and looked at me I kissed her. I kissed her with no reservation with all I had to give. We melted together as she softened and yielded to my embrace. I remember whispering in her ear “Now you will know how much you were loved.” She did not say a word but her hand found its way between my legs. I was wet, and not just from the shower. I washed her taking my cue from how she had touched me. I washed and touched every inch of her body and watched as she changed, how she moved into my hands how she yielded to me.
We washed and dried each other and went into the bedroom. The smell I had noticed earlier, and liked so much was her soap. now we both smelled like that. On the bed kissing I reached between her legs. She was dripping and it was not from the shower. With my fingers probing her opening I used my other hand to push her legs apart. I moved between them and lowered my head to kiss her thighs. I used my fingers to spread her very large labia apart and I saw the pink flesh of her inside. Her hands went to the back of my head and pulled me in.
As my tongue entered her I felt her feet against my back. When my tongue touched her bright pink clit I felt her shutter. My hands were on her butt cheeks and I even felt them tighten when she had the first orgasm. She told me later that she had only read about women having oral sex. She and Jessie had never gotten that far and both her husbands after one attempt never tried again.
It didn’t take but a moment for her to want to do the same to me, for me. When I looked up I saw the reflection of her ass in a wall mirror and I came.
I knew what I wanted and soon had her positioned on top of me with the promise of better access to each other. I wanted to lick her but not only her pussy. I started by licking and kissing her labia. Long strokes with my tongue flat and sweeping. I put my hands on her butt cheeks and spread them apart. She was big enough back there that I had to work to get my face and tongue to her hole but when I made contact she asked me not to stop. Later she copied my action and rimmed my butt hole, something I love. Catherine was a wonderful lover. Giving and demanding at the same time.
I saw in Catherine, myself in a few years. As I looked at her I saw the breasts of an older woman. Breasts that were perhaps slightly larger, and softer than than they were when she was in her teens but still proud, still round, still inviting with nipples begging to be kissed. Her hips were round, soft and welcoming. She had a soft sexy belly but was by no means fat. As she turned I saw her butt which was still round curved and inviting. Her skin was soft, white and unblemished.
Afterward as we lay in each other’s arms she asked me to stay for dinner and if I wanted to, spend the night. She explained that if Haywood invited us to have brandy with him after dinner he was looking for sex? She laughed a little and said, “Romantic huh?” Cathy said that if that happened she would go and I could come back to her rooms until she was done. It all sounded so sterile. I agreed to dinner and offered something I think she wanted. If Haywood asked us to have Brandy with him I would accompany her.
After a while, we dressed for dinner and joined Haywood in the dining room. Catherine had told me what to expect. After dinner we went to his rooms where we were to make love to him together. As we took off his clothes he was touching us both, her more than me, her breasts more than mine. The old bastard still loved her. We were on the bed, all three of us naked, and I took his limp cock in my mouth trying to work some magic. He was only semi hard but Cathy started to suck and lick his balls. We positioned ourselves so he was looking at our back sides. By plan we spread our legs so he could see our breasts hanging. After he got hard I moved to his head to kiss him and so he could play with my breasts as Cathy continued to suck him. I heard him say “Catherine, don’t stop!” I reached over and touched her pussy, she was wet, soaking wet. I whispered in her ear, “Get on top of him and leave the rest to me.” She climbed up on him. Her breasts were above his face. He was touching them and I was stroking him with my hand, sucking the head of his cock and flicking the slit with my tongue.
As she leaned back I put his cock in her. She was moving up and down as best she could when I grasped his balls and gave them a gentle tug I felt them contract. He was cumming and telling her he was cumming. “Oh Cathrine, don’t stop.” I left them, spent, holding each other in his room and went back to her room and climbed in bed.