Date: Wed, 18 Aug 2004 19:21:12 -0700 (PDT)
From: ybother1122@yahoo.com
Subject: Good Girl - 4

  DEAR NIFTY READERS,

  This is a story about the sexual awakening of a young woman. If you
either; A) aren't into that, B) aren't old enough to be reading it, or C)
can't read, you should really stop here. If you liked (or hated) this
story, drop us a line at ybother1122@yahoo.com. Don't take anything you
read here too seriously, I certainly didn't.



  "There's been a change in plans," Steven Lindeman said as he packed
Heather's small suitcase into the trunk of his car. "Danny won't be
coming."
  Heather had spent the last week explaining to her mother that the
Lindemans needed her to come on vacation with them because their son needed
a nanny in Brazil. Her mother was reluctant to let her travel outside the
country. But the Lindemans were good babysitting customers, and those were
hard to find.
  "You get a trip to another country," her mother said. "That's nothing to
sneeze at."
  It helped that they paid for her passport and visas before she had ever
got permission to take the trip. Now, she wasn't sure of why she was going.
  "Danny's grandfather is in the state muskie fishing championships,"
Steven said as he closed the trunk. "They fish together all the time when
he visits and this is very important to Vern."
  Vern Groesser, Denise's father, had come close to winning the contest
several times. He considered his grandson a good luck charm. It was hard
for Heather to see the connection, as Danny had a problem with being quiet
-- something she thought was a prerequisite of fishing.
  "Then why do you need me to come?" she asked.
  "We don't need you," Denise said. "We want you to come. Besides, we've
already purchased your ticket. We're eating Danny's ticket as it stands."
  Heather looked back at her mother, who was standing at the door, waving
goodbye, "OK, but what am I going to do there?"
  Denise laughed and got into the back seat of the car, inviting her to sit
beside her, "You'll get a tan, eat tamales and learn to tango... aside from
that you're on your own."


  Heather stood in the lobby of Ilha do Governador international airport,
watching people come and go. Taxis zoomed in and out, travelers spilling
back and forth as jets screamed above. So many of the tourists were like
her, giddy to get their vacations started. But all of them, in one
important respect, were completely different from her. The difference:
luggage.
  Denise walked up to her and gave a resigned shake of her head, "I don't
think it's happening, hon," she said. "The closest they can figure is that
our bags are on their way to Anchorage."
  "Alaska? How could that happen?"
  "Try not to think about it," Denise said lightly. "Steven is arguing
about that in three different languages right now. We're going to get on to
the house while he sorts it out."
  Heather followed Denise to the street as the older woman hailed a cab,
"What about Steven?
  "He'll make his own way. Besides, he's wrecking years of anger management
therapy, he can use the time to get his head back together. We can use the
time to go shopping for new clothes."


  After a cab ride through the busy streets, the two came to the Alto
Leblon area of the city, where the large resorts and hotels gave way to
upscale residential homes and apartments. The car stopped at a small beach
shop across the street from the Jardim de Ala beaches.
  "Sabine owns this shop," Denise said as she paid the cabbie. "We can at
least get some beachwear to get us started."
  Heather had been learning about Sabine in short fits and starts over the
past month as the trip was being planned. She was a German immigrant who
made a nice living for herself in Brazil catering to the tourist trade. She
collected primitive art, painted and was an old friend of Steven's
family...more or less.
  The door opened with a bright jingle to reveal a store stacked high with
shorts, shirts and bathing suits of all sizes and descriptions. The
tasteful and the garish sat side by side. They stood for a second before a
girl came out of the back room.
  "Hola!"
  The girl was short, just five feet tall, with round brown hips and
breasts. Atop her head was a thick mass of red curls draping down her
shoulders and back. Her curvy form was packed into a black bikini top and
matching wrap around her thighs.
  "Is Sabine Maas in?" Denise asked.
  "Sabine is out right now. I'm Solique, can I help you?"
  "I'm Denise Lindeman..."
  "Senhora Lindeman!" the girl cried out and ran up to her excitedly. Quick
as a wink, she was on her toes and kissing the woman, once on each cheek,
"Senhora Maas said you would be coming today. It is so good to meet
you. And this must be Heather."
  Heather started to put out her hand but was brushed away by Solique, "In
Brazil we kiss, ooh you're tall."
  Heather tentatively leaned down to allow the girl to kiss her. After the
second kiss ("duas"), she turned to Denise. "Why are you here, Senhora Maas
said you would be coming directly to her house?"
  Denise explained the problem with the luggage and Solique clucked her
tongue knowingly. She immediately started pulling items off the racks for
the two. "There is no problem; we will have you taken care of very
quickly."
  "Take care of Heather right now, I'm going to make contact with Steven
and see what's happened with the bags." She gave Heather a quick kiss on
the lips and told her to pick out whatever she wanted. With that, she left
her babysitter alone with the Brazilian girl in the beach shop.


  After collecting an impressive stack of shorts and sundresses, the two
girls were getting along famously. Solique was a bit younger than Heather,
but they still had a lot in common; both being teenage girls working small
jobs in their hometowns. Solique's English was very good, only halting
occasionally when searching for the right word to describe a type of shirt
or style of shoe.
  Eventually, the short girl brought out a selection of bathing suits in
Heather's size. With only two exceptions, they were all a deep blue.
  "I think blue is your color," she said definitively. "I brought a black
and a white but I think blue is for you."
  Heather looked over the suits and furrowed her brow. Blue was her color,
but none of the suits were like the simple one-piece suit she had packed at
home. They were all very revealing, either cut high over the thighs or
falling dangerously beneath. She was certain she had seen one of them
online once, the name "pretzel" came to mind.
  "I don't think any of these would be right for me," she said warily.
  "Oh, nonsense," Solique said. She picked one out, pushed it into
Heather's hands and shooed her toward the dressing room, "You put that on
and then we'll talk."
  A few minutes later Heather stood in front of the mirror in the dressing
room in a state bordering on panic. The small, blue bathing suit covered
less skin than any pair of underwear she owned. While it was very
flattering for her smallish breasts, it left her backside nearly
uncovered. It wasn't a thong, but only by degrees.
  That's the least of the problems, she thought.
  "Come on out honey," Solique called. "Let me see how that looks on you."
  "I don't think this is going to work out," she said. "It shows off a lot
of my butt."
  "Uh-huh. Come on out."
  Heather stepped out of the dressing room with her hands folded in front
of her, visibly trying to shrink to a smaller size before the Brazilian
girl. Solique told her to turn around and nodded approvingly, "You have a
nice butt. It's a small, white girl butt, but still very nice."
  Heather turned back to her and her eyes implored her, "But this..."
  She moved her hands to reveal tufts her brown pubic hair poking out of
the top and sides of the bottoms. She gave a universal ("See? It won't
work") shrug, "I can't go out looking like this."
  Solique nodded, "You're right, come here."
  With that, she reached for Heather's hand and led her into the back room
of the store. Heather's eyes went to the racks of boxes, looking for one
marked "blue suit bottoms," when the short redhead bent over and pulled the
suit bottom down to her ankles. Heather squeaked in shock, trying to cover
her nakedness as Solique pushed her into a dentist's chair directly behind
her.
  Heather tried to sputter something when the girl pressed a button on what
looked like an electric pencil sharpener. It made a whirring sound and
filled her palm with a puff of white cream. Heather gasped as Solique
smeared the piping hot cream over her pussy in a swirling motion.
  She took a razor from a shelf and winked at Heather, "We'll take care of
you right away."
  Heather stared in mute horror as the Brazilian girl began shaving the
pubic hair away from her sex in short, expert strokes. The initial heat of
the hot cream left her lips tingling, a feeling intensified by the girl's
manipulating of them as she moved the razor back and forth over her pubic
mound.
  Solique took the razor away and cleaned Heather off with another warm,
wet hand towel, which she replaced with a soft dry one. She carefully
cleaned off the girl, running the towel down her legs and around her ass to
get the stray drips of water.
  "There we go, now you'll look perfect."
  Heather looked down to see her pussy, naked as the day she was
born. Solique took Heather's hand and brushed it against the now-smooth
mound, "See, fresh and soft, just like me."
  Solique stood up and untied the wrap around her thighs, revealing her
nakedness beneath. Sure enough, her cleft was completely bare, "Just like
twins."
  She knelt again and brushed Heather's pussy, her eyebrows raising as she
felt the growing slickness. She smiled, leaned in and kissed the girl's
rising clit.
  Heather let out a startled moan as the melodic jingle of the door rang
through the shop. Solique pulled away from the girl, retied her wrap and
headed out into the sales floor. Heather sat there dazed, only pulling
herself together when she heard the girl's voice calling to her, "Heather,
Senhora Denise is back."


  Heather pulled her swimsuit back on hurriedly and stepped out to the main
room to see Denise standing with a tall, pale woman and a Brazilian man
just inside the door. She put on a brave smile, "Hi, Denise."
  "Heather," said her blonde mentor, "I want you to meet Sabine Maas, she's
our host here in Rio."
  Sabine was wearing a severe looking black Armani suit with a matching
wide brimmed hat. She removed her obviously expensive sunglasses to reveal
red-tinged eyes. An albino, Heather thought.
  "Come here beautiful," she said her voice quiet and carefully paced. "Let
me see you."
  Heather walked across the store to stand before the pale woman, painfully
aware how little she was wearing and what had been happening just a few
moments before.
  Sabine placed her hand on the side of Heather's face and gazed deeply
into her eyes before planting two gentle kisses on either cheek. Her lips
were dry and silky; her perfume was subtle and mysterious, "What a pretty
girl you are. It will be a pleasure having you as a guest in my home."
  "Thanks for having me," Heather said, trembling slightly. "You have an
awfully nice store." God, that's lame, she thought.
  "Darling, the block is mine. Let me see you," she turned Heather around,
taking her time to look over her entire body in the brand-new bathing
suit. She cooed appreciatively as the girl's eyes came back to hers. "Oh
Denise, this one is a treasure. Wherever did you find such a delicate
thing?"
  "She lives in my neighborhood back home," Denise said, putting her arm
around the girl. "She watches Daniel for Steven and me when we want to go
out for the evening."
  A look of shock, "The babysitter? Amazing. Heather, meet Jaime, he's my
manservant."
  To Heather, Jaime looked like a Greek god who had landed on the wrong
continent. Beneath his immaculately cut suit he was perfectly formed, with
smooth mocha skin and large dark eyes in a face framed by long, black hair.
  "Do I kiss you now?" Heather asked.
  "If you care to," he said, smiling mildly. "I know it isn't an American
custom."
  Heather went up on her toes and kissed each of the man's cheeks, her
breasts brushing the front of the handmade suit. She returned to her feet
reveling in the man's cologne, which was elusive like his mistress'.
  Denise gestured to the pile of clothing Heather and Solique picked out,
"Let's get this wrapped up and take it back to the house."
  The girls carefully folded the clothing and placed everything in four
large turquoise and white striped bags. Denise lifted them from the counter
and was headed out to the car at the curb.
  "Wait!" Solique called to Denise. "A dress. Heather needs a dress to wear
to dinner."
  "Can you help her with that?" Sabine asked the shop girl. "Denise and I
really should be getting back to the house to be sure the menu is coming
along."
  Solique nodded.
  "Very good," said Sabine, and the door slammed behind the two women, and
they disappeared into the back of Sabine's car.
  Solique grabbed a small ring of keys and her purse, and reached for the
knob on the front door.
  "Just let me lock up and we'll head to the other store. It's just a few
blocks away. It was Senhora Maas's first store, and I think it carries the
nicest things of all her clothing shops."
  Heather had almost made it to the front door when she realized she was
still wearing the swimsuit Solique had chosen for her.
  "Ummmm...."
  "What is it?" Solique said, eyebrow raised.
  "I think I may need just one more pair of shorts. Maybe a blouse too."
Heather looked down at her suit, then at Solique.
  "Oh no! You look beautiful. It's only a couple of blocks. C'mon. Besides,
everyone dresses that way here when they feel like it."
  "I can't," Heather said quietly, looking down at the pale blue tile
floor.
  Solique moved closer wrapping her arm around Heather's bare back.
  "Yes. You can."
  Heather shook her head again.
  "You look so lovely I want everyone to see my pretty new friend."
  Heather was silent, and before she could protest again, Solique grabbed
her by the wrist, pulled her out the door onto the sidewalk, and locked the
shop's door behind them.
  "See? I told you it would be OK."
  But Heather didn't feel OK at all. The girls walked in the direction of
the sun and she could feel long stares fall on her pale, smooth skin. She
crossed her arms in front of her and looked down at her sandals as she
walked.
  When Heather looked up, she realized she no longer had her companion
beside her. She stopped abruptly and looked over her shoulder, and saw
Solique standing some 10 yards behind her, hands on her hips looking dead
at Heather.
  Heather ran back to her, panicked to have to traverse the 30 feet alone.
  "What? Were you going to leave me?" Heather demanded, the pitch and
volume of her usually soft voice rising.
  "No. I was just watching you walk. What's the matter?"
  "I don't know. I just feel so...."
  Solique stopped her.
  "Shhhhhhhh."
  She took Heather's wrists and pulled her arms away from her abdomen. With
one hand, she brushed Heather's hair from her face. Solique smiled.
  "Here," Solique said, offering a crooked arm. Heather slipped her arm
through that of her new friend -- at the moment, the only friend that
mattered -- and the two walked again toward the sun.
  Solique's arm slipped around Heather's waist, and her bronzed skin felt
warm against Heather's back. Heather felt her friend's hand slip down and
rest on her nearly naked bottom, and she felt a little rush as people
looked at them walking together. Suddenly the stares that had felt like
nails on her bare skin made her tingle all over.
  As if she were reading Heather's mind, Solique stopped walking, pulled
Heather close to her and said, "People will think you're my lover."
  Solique flashed her broad, bright smile before quickly kissing
Heather. And kissing her again. And again, a lingering kiss, Solique's soft
tongue licking Heather's lower lip.
  Solique stopped, looked up at the sign over the storefront.
  "This is the place."
  The girls walked into the store, and were greeted by four young
women. Although Heather couldn't understand what they were saying she
picked up on two things: they were expecting her and Solique, and they
liked Solique very much. The girls were immediately whisked into a dressing
room -- if you could call it a room. The "room" was four white linen panels
of fabric, hanging from brass rods overhead. The "walls" were tied together
with small linen strips, and reminded Heather of a tent at scout camp, but
prettier.
  Through the linen panels, dresses began to appear. Thrust through the
separations in the linens at the ends of brown, arms with bangles and
sparkly watches and perfect French manicures, a dozen dresses on satin
hangers found their way to the brass hook-shaped rack inside the dressing
room.
  Once the arms stopped reaching in, Solique instructed Heather to try on
the first dress.
  Solique helped Heather out of her suit, slowly peeling it away from her
body. Had her hands purposely lingered at Heather's neck? Had it been an
accident when her palms brushed over Heather's pale pink nipples, causing
them to perk hard against her touch? Had Solique intended to stay so long
on her knees in front of Heather, and had she meant for her soft hair to
brush against Heather's smooth sex? Heather didn't think it was accidental
-- she hoped it wasn't.
  The first dress was champagne-colored silk, with a deep plunge in the
back and a soft drape across the top of her breasts. It fit better than any
dress she had ever worn. It was as if the shop girls had her exact
measurements. But of course they didn't. They had each simply developed the
"eye." The "eye" was usually wasted on middle-aged women of wealth, vain
and willing to spend any amount of money on a dress which could erase 10
pounds and 15 years. The girls, who enjoyed healthy commissions, were able
to size up clientele the minute their wallets walked through the front
door.
  Commission or no commission, they were eager to choose the dress that
would not only make this lovely young American thing look as delicious as
they knew she could be, but also to please their employer, who would
certainly ask over dinner, "What a lovely dress. Who found that for you?"
  Each dress was more beautiful than the last -- red and emerald and black
and lavender in soft silks and satins, and crispy georgette and flowing
gauze.
  "I still say blue is your color," Solique said to Heather, who was
standing naked in front of her.
  "This," Solique said, holding a peacock blue dress in her hands. "This is
the one."
  Solique was right. The bodice on the dress clung to Heather's small frame
and pushed her small breasts upward, creating near-cleavage. The skirt fell
softly over Heather's bare legs, the silk so rich it felt like kitten fur
against her thighs.
  "Yes, you're right," she told Solique. This is the right one.
  Solique unzipped the back of the dress, put it on it's hanger and held it
at the end of her arm, outside the panels, where a shop girl took it from
her, and headed off to find the right jewelry and shoes to complete the
look.
  Solique handed Heather her swim suit, but before she could step into it,
she told Heather to stop.
  "You really will look beautiful," she told Heather, and brushed her hair
from her shoulder. Solique pressed against Heather's naked body, and
wrapped one arm around her waist. Her hand landed on the small of Heather's
back.
  Heather drew in a long breath, and stopped herself from begging Solique
to kiss her hard. She didn't have to beg. She didn't even have to ask,
because Solique's lips pressed hard against her mouth, and the two locked
themselves in a dizzying embrace.
  Heather could see through the gaps in the linen panels that the shop
girls scurrying around the store, paying no mind to the shadow of the two
girls inside the dressing room. But she almost wished they were paying
attention. The same tingle from the men who watched them walk along the
sidewalk returned, and with the tingle came an intense heat which started
in Heather's abdomen and spread through her.
  I dare you to watch me kiss the girl from the other shop, thought
Heather, as she eyed the young women outside the curtains. But then she was
lost in Solique's kisses, in her touch, her smell, and she no longer cared
if anyone saw or not as she pulled her friend's shirt up over her head.
  Heather had not yet been a sexual aggressor, but she was adapting well to
the role. She leaned down to take a perky nipple into her mouth, flicking
it with her tongue. She untied the wrap that covered Solique's firm thighs
and pulled the fabric away from her. Heather knelt before Solique and
covered her bare mound with kisses. Then long licks. Her scent was strong
and sweet, like oranges, Heather thought.
  Heather's tongue pointed and slid into Solique's wet slit, and stopped at
her swelling clit.
  Solique whimpered, and Heather felt her hand on the back of her
head. Heather's ran her fingers along the insides of Solique's slick folds
and pressed inside her. She fingered and licked and reveled in the other
girl's soft moans. Solique tried to be quiet. But when her climax nearly
made her knees buckle beneath her, she could not hold in the squeal that
escaped her mouth.
  Solique dropped to her knees, and covered Heather's mouth and slippery
face with long, probing kisses.
  When Solique stopped shaking, the two dressed and emerged from the
dressing room. As they passed the counter, Solique grabbed the pink bag
which was waiting for them and the two headed back out into the street, arm
in arm, and Heather no longer cared if anyone watched them walk.


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