Stephanie's Revenge (5 page)

She put her
dress back on and came out of the cubicle. The old woman stood
waiting for her.

'Va bene?' she
asked.

'Wonderful,'
Stephanie said. 'Exactly the right size.'

'So I show you
the styles and the colours. This way please.'

She led the
way through another door and up a narrow flight of stairs. The
stairs were dimly lit with no carpeting. Their shoes echoed on the
wood. At the top of the stairs was a comparatively large room with
two picture windows overlooking the narrow street and the building
opposite, which appeared to be no more than feet away. The windows
were bare, no curtains or lace. At one end of the room was a small
dais, and a large green velvet drape hung behind it. The only items
on the polished wooden floor, pitted and marked with age, were five
or six gold-painted spoon-backed chairs. The woman indicated that
Stephanie should sit. Then she lifted a corner of the drapery and
disappeared for a moment behind it.

Stephanie felt
a strange sense of excitement. She could still feel the silky
material of the lingerie as it had wrapped itself around her body.
She looked down at herself and was not surprised to find that her
nipples were hard and erect, poking through the thin cotton of the
dress.

The old woman
reappeared. She hooked the corner of the drapery to a tie-back so
it formed a curtained arch. Then she came to stand behind Stephanie
and the line of golden chairs. She clapped her hands.

From behind
the curtain, a very tall black woman emerged. She was wearing a
cream camiknicker in satin and lace, the lace panels positioned
over the breasts and at the side on the hips. In white high heels,
she pirouetted on the dais, took three or four steps forward
towards Stephanie, and then wheeled again, heading back through the
curtain. As soon as she disappeared another girl, white this time
and blonde, strode out on to the dais wearing the waspie basque
Stephanie had seen in the window downstairs, except in a stunning
flame red. She wore red stockings too, attached to the long
suspenders, and a pair of matching panties that barely covered the
pouting triangle of her sex.

There were
three girls in all. Each time they appeared in different outfits
the old woman gave a running commentary in her precise English:
style, material, colour. All the girls were attractive, all with
figures that matched the underwear, all aware that their bodies and
what they were displaying were special, but it was the black girl,
among the array of pulchritude, that most fascinated Stephanie.
There was something about her. Something quite exceptional. She was
a dark chocolate brown, her skin soft and young, her curly black
hair cut to within an inch of her scalp, her long legs and slim
waist complementing whatever she was given to wear. She had small
breasts with large, prominent nipples and, Stephanie noticed,
modelled only the lingerie where the architecture of the bust was
not important. The under-wired bras and basques and corsets were
all modelled by the other two girls, whose breasts were full and
heavy.

'Can I see
that more closely?' Stephanie asked innocently, actually wanting to
see the girl rather than the lingerie. She was modelling a short,
grey, silky slip, no more than a beautifully cut shift supported on
two thin spaghetti straps. The old woman beckoned the girl closer.
She took two more steps forward, but was still four feet away.
Stephanie could see that under the slip she was naked. Dressing and
undressing in quick succession obviously left no time to find a
pair of knickers to wear under the slip, and a bra would have
spoilt the effect of the floating, diaphanous garment.

'I'd like to
feel the material,' Stephanie said, wanting her closer still. The
old woman nodded, and the black woman advanced again until
Stephanie could reach out and rub the hem of the slip between
finger and thumb. Picking it up from the front in this way exposed
the woman's triangle of pubic hair. To Stephanie's surprise, it was
not thick and wiry like the tight curls on her head, but very
sparse - only a few black wisps struggling to cover the delta of
her sex. Stephanie could see the beginnings of her sex, the
delicate folds of her labia. She could see her nipples too. Though
her breasts were no more than a gentle swelling on her chest, her
nipples were like a stack of pennies, hard and corrugated and
distinctly pink in contrast to the surrounding dark brown of her
breast.

The woman saw
where she was looking. She waited until Stephanie's eyes looked up
into her face and then stared back at her, trying to see what
Stephanie wanted, what she was doing.

Stephanie felt
a surge of passion. As the woman turned and walked away, the light
material lifted to reveal her arse, a pert, tight, neat arse, a
crescent moon at the top of each thigh where the creases of flesh
delineated the bottom of the buttock. Stephanie's palms were
sweating and she realised she was breathing in shallow pants. In
her mind's eye she could see the woman in her bed, could feel her
fingers pinching those huge nipples, could hear her moan as she
tongued her clitoris, could see those long brown legs spread
open.

'You would
like to see more?'

'More?'
Stephanie tried to concentrate on reality.

'That is our
lingerie collection.' The old woman had been watching, she had felt
the tension in the air. 'We have more specialised items. I think
for you that they may be of interest. You are a strong woman. That
is what men like in you. Is that true?'

Stephanie
looked round at the old woman, who stood behind her as upright and
straight as if she had been eighteen. Her eyes were sparkling with
life. 'Apparently,' she answered truthfully.

'I know these
things. Before I started my shop, I too was like you. Men like the
young, soft, innocent women. They like the satin and silk and lace.
They like the virgin white. Some men, a lot of men, like something
else... I show you more, yes?'

'Please.'
Stephanie was fascinated.

The old woman
clapped her hands again. This time through the curtain one of the
white models emerged. Instead of the soft, delicate lingerie she
was wearing high-heeled, knee-length, lace-up black boots, a black
leather basque and a studded leather collar. The basque clung to
her body, its bust cut to support the breasts from underneath,
pushing them up and leaving them completely exposed. Leather
suspenders held black stockings. Elbow-length gloves clad her hands
and arms and she held a short riding-crop.

The old woman
was giggling. 'This is our more specialised range. You like?'

'Show me
more...'

It was another
half hour before the display of bizarre costumes was finished.
There were leather cat-suits, leather bras, knickers and suspender
belts. There were dresses laced down both sides from shoulder to
mid-thigh. There were mini-skirts and halter tops. The leather was
either the softest glove quality or bright, shiny patent leather;
tight, elastic and clinging. To Stephanie's disappointment, none of
these outfits was worn by the black woman. All required a
substantial bust to look their best.

Stephanie went
through a catalogue of items and ordered quantities of lingerie and
leather. The old woman told her everything was custom made, but she
would have delivery within a week. As they did not accept credit
cards, Stephanie was grateful she had raided the safe for the Swiss
Francs.

After the
business was concluded, the woman got up to escort Stephanie
downstairs. But Stephanie remained seated.

'Could I just
ask...?' Stephanie said, hoping that after all the money she had
spent she could ask for anything.

The old woman
was looking at Stephanie with what could only be described as a
knowing smile.

'The grey
slip. Could I just see that again?' She hoped the woman would
understand that the grey slip meant the negress to model it.

The old woman
was way ahead of her. 'She is beautiful, isn't she? Most beautiful.
So long. So fine. Before I started my shop... It is a long time ago
now. I was like you, I think. I had another business. A good
business. I made a lot of money. I saw what men liked. And
women.'

The old woman
went to the door and turned a large key in an old-fashioned box
mortice lock. She put the key on the chair next to Stephanie,
unhooked the drapery in the corner from its tie-back and let it
fall.

'It will only
take a moment,' she said, and disappeared behind the curtain.

Stephanie
waited, feeling her pulse increasing. No more than four months ago
she had never even dreamt of having sex with a woman. But now that
had changed, like everything else in her life. At the castle, she
had experienced such delight in the arms of a woman, it was not
something she intended to forgo ever again, Now she could feel,
just as she had today with the negress, a surge of desire when she
saw an attractive woman, and now she was in a position where she
had no need to suppress it. Her sexuality was almost masculine; she
could join the hunt like a man, searching for her quarry - male or
female. It was a wonderful feeling, to be free to do as she
pleased.

The drapery
rustled and was pulled aside, and the black woman appeared wearing
the grey slip with the spaghetti straps. She paraded on the dais,
looking self-conscious now they were alone.

'Do you speak
English?' Stephanie asked.

'Yes,' she
said.

'Come and sit
here please.'

She walked
over to the line of gold chairs without looking directly at
Stephanie. She sat on one of the chairs, leaving an empty chair
between herself and Stephanie. The large key to the door lay on the
seat of the chair between them. The young woman looked at it before
she looked up at Stephanie, her eyes full of questions.

'You are very
beautiful,' Stephanie said.

'Thank you.'
Her dark brown eyes searched for an answer, wanting to know what
she was doing here. 'You are very beautiful, toi aussi.' Her accent
was not Italian, but French.

'What's your
name?'

'Jasmina.' She
continued to stare into Stephanie's eyes.

'Give me your
hand, Jasmina,' Stephanie said firmly.

Jasmina
obeyed, holding out her left hand. The fingers were slim and
incredibly long, the fingernails cultivated, manicured and painted
with brilliant red varnish. Stephanie had a pulse of pleasure at
the thought of what such long fingers could do to her. She clasped
the hand in both of hers. She had never seduced a woman before
(until now she had always been seduced). She hadn't the slightest
idea of what to do next, now she was the hunter. She wanted
desperately to kiss Jasmina's thick, pouting lips; wanted to feel
that slim athletic body pressed against hers.

'If I were to
kiss you, what would you feel?' She could think of nothing else but
being direct.

Jasmina
laughed, a deep throaty laugh, breaking the tension. Her eyes
sparkled with energy and life. Stephanie had her answer.

'Je ne sais
pas. I don't know. I have never tried this.'

'Would you
like—?'

But before
Stephanie had finished, Jasmina leant over the chair that separated
them, her hand reaching round Stephanie's neck and pulling her over
into a kiss. She kissed hard, urgently, her tongue probing between
Stephanie's lips. The unexpectedness of her action gave Stephanie
an enormous thrill. Jasmina had thrown aside the cloak of apparent
shyness.

'There...'
Jasmina said, breaking the kiss. 'Very good,' she said to herself,
as if testing her own reaction. 'It was good?' she asked Stephanie,
as though genuinely thinking she might not feel the same.

'Yes.'

'I think so
too. Your mouth is very soft. Not like a man.' She bent forward
again, wanting to renew the experiment. This time, she let
Stephanie's tongue into her mouth and, when it was firmly between
her lips, sucked on it as though it were a penis. At the same time,
she let her hand fall on to Stephanie's breasts, squeezing them
both in turn.

She broke the
kiss again and looked into Stephanie's eyes - a long, searching
look.

'I have never
done this before, jamais,' she said. 'It excites me.'

'Does it?'

'Mais
oui.'

Jasmina stood
up and faced the seated Stephanie. 'I saw you looking at my little
pussy. I have little to cover my secret parts. You like what you
saw?' She parted her legs so that Stephanie's knees were between
her thighs and pressed forward until Stephanie's face was up
against the silk of the slip. Then she pulled down both spaghetti
straps from her shoulders, and the slip fell away until it caught
on Stephanie's lap.

'I like this,
I think...' Jasmina said, laughing with sheer pleasure.

Stephanie
sucked the bulbous nipple into her mouth and heard Jasmina moan as
she pinched it with her teeth. She ran her hands around to
Jasmina's back, feeling its sinewy length, and then down to her
tight, muscled buttocks, pulling her forward until their bodies
were crushed against each other. The young woman sat on Stephanie's
thighs and ran her fingers into her long black hair as she bent to
kiss her full on the mouth again.

As their
tongues explored, vying for position, each wanting to be first to
find new territory, Stephanie ran her hand down under Jasmina's
thighs, under the cleft of her arse, to touch the lips of her sex.
She felt a shockwave run through Jasmina's body at the first
contact of her fingertips, and her whole body tensed. But she did
not allow that to stop her. She caressed the outer lips softly,
then slowly pushed inward. Jasmina responded by kissing harder,
sucking on Stephanie's lips, pushing against her tongue.
Stephanie's fingers delved deeper, moving upward to find Jasmina's
clitoris. She could feel her heat and her wetness. Her clitoris was
swollen.