Date: Mon, 10 Jan 2000 12:40:13 -0800 (PST)
From: Selena Anders <selena33_ca@yahoo.com>
Subject: margaret-23

We had a layover of almost four hours in Miami, spent in the executive
lounge of Central Air, which was much bigger in Miami than at home.
This was the official gathering place for the NLMA charter to Santa
Pinata.  Slowly, other folks from the lingerie business assembled,
waiting until all the connecting flights arrived.  Everyone seemed to
be in a festive mood, and Lanie was kept running to bring more trays of
champagne.

It was our first real exposure to the lingerie business culture, other
than at the EROS factory of course.  Women outnumbered men by about 4
to 1, which makes sense.  Women take care with their delicate undies,
while most men are only interested in ripping them off!  It was a happy
giggly party that finally boarded the smaller charter plane, and Lanie
actually looked very harried as she tried to check the boarding passes
of her intoxicated passengers.

I was seated next to a stunning blonde girl in her mid twenties.  Her
hair was cut very short, exposing all of her ears and a long graceful
neck, highlighted by a nouveau design of drop earrings.  The wide and
deep neckline of her emerald green leotard completed the exposure of
her lovely throat, and hinted at the pleasure to be found within her
ample cleavage.  "Bonjour, madame," she greeted me, "I mean, hello.  My
name is Simone."  She held out a hand of greeting.

I took it, but not wanting to waste an opportunity, instead of shaking
hands I took hers and kissed it three times; on the middle knuckle,
center of the back of the hand, and her wrist.  "Vous etes tres
galante, Madame.  Aimez-vous les femmes?"

"At every possible opportunity, and the name is Margaret.  How about
you?  What's your job on this junket?"

Simone seemed a bit confused by my answer, but she seemed to get the
gist of my last question.  "I am modele pour la compagnie Perele."

Well I was certainly impressed.  Perele is definitely a high end,
ultra-chic French lingerie maker, and if this classy lady was the
twins' competition as a model; well, we'd just have to work something
out.   Such were my thoughts as the propellers of the plane started up,
and we rolled for takeoff.

"Would you care for a drink, ladies?"  It was Lanie.

"Vin blanc, s'il vous plait." Simone answered, but after the champagne
in the lounge I decided to opt for water.  Lanie handed Simone a glass
and a split of white wine, then expertly poured me a glass of water.
Just as she was handing it to me, Simone sneezed, and her head bumped
hard against Lanie's arm.  The water splashed all over my front, and
several ice cubes landed in my lap.

It was the oldest trick in the book, but Simone did it so well.
Snatching a napkin from Lanie's tray, she began to mop at my chest,
leaving the ice cubes to melt in my crotch.  She turned to Lanie,
"Ma'm'selle, vite!  We must take this lady somewhere private!"  She
practically dragged me down the aisle, as the partyers cheered the wet
spot on the front of my skirt.  Simone pushed Lanie into the cramped
airplane lavatory and made her sit on the tiny steel counter, as if she
were about to pee in the miniature sink.  Then she pulled me in too,
telling me to sit sideways on the toilet with my face between Lanie's
thighs.

Finally, Simone pulled the door shut and slid the lock home.
"Mesdames, we must all make beautiful love together!" she insisted, and
I wasn't about to say no.  Eagerly I lifted Lanie's navy-blue
stewardess' skirt and slid my hands up her golden thighs to grip the
sides of her lacy panties.

I glanced up to see Simone practically ripping Lanie's shirt open to
attack her nipples with her mouth.  Clearly, Simone was not only
stunningly beautiful on a level with LC, but also intensely sexual and
burning with desire.  It was almost comical with the three of us trying
to have sex in an airplane washroom half the size of a phone booth, but
the closeness of all of our bodies, and the steamy heat of our passion
drowned the comedy in passion.

It was a struggle to pull Lanie's panties down past her knees, since my
knees were between hers, with nowhere to go.  So I lifted her legs
until her feet were in my lap, and her knees in my face, and finally
managed to work that scrap of lace off her.  From there, the obvious
thing to do was lift her legs over my shoulders so her feet were
planted firmly on the side wall behind me.

Simone was licking her way slowly up Lanie's neck, while her hand
played with Lanie's engorged pinky-brown nipples.  Every touch and
tweak of those obviously sensitive nubs made Lanie moan in pleasure.  I
let my eyes drift down Lanie's smooth tummy, watching it convulse with
every sexual shock that ran through her young body.

My gaze came to rest on the rich, milk-chocolate lips of Lanie's
swollen cunt.  The inner lips thrust out from between the outer ones
like the edges of an open oyster, eager for the touch of food.  What
they got was the touch of my tongue, gently parting the salty folds and
sucking the sinuous flesh between my lips.  By just tilting my head
slightly, I could suck a long slip of delicious woman-flesh into my
mouth, and glide my tongue along it at leisure.  Lanie reacted to this
by bucking her pelvis against my mouth, but I teased her by pulling
back, sucking her succulent folds as I gently tugged on them.

My mouth was delighting in the taste of Lannie while Simone's pelvis
ground into my arm. It wasn't as if Simone had any choice about it,
since in that tiny space her ass was firmly pressed against the locked
door.  So I slid a hand up underneath Simone's skirt to find that her
leotard was a thong-back.  The narrow washroom wouldn't allow her to
spread her feet, so she simply squatted slightly to allow her knees to
spread as she leaned back against the door.

Quickly my fingers snaked under the narrow strip of fabric that ran
through her crotch, and began to delve into her sopping pussy.  I
confess that it was all too much for me.  I could not continue to
concentrate on both tongue-teasing our stewardess and at the same time
do digital justice to the saturated snatch that bore down on my
fingers.
Both Lanie and Simone obviously had the same dilemma as the former
fumbled ineffectually to release the model's succulent tits, while
Simone kept gasping and thereby releasing Lanie's lush mammaries.  It
was a three-way sexual overload as Lanie came first, her cunt juices
spilling down my blouse and adding to the stain already on my skirt.

Then Simone's climax drenched my hand, and wrist, and forearm, and
elbow and kept on dripping.  The two gorgeously sexy women collapsed on
top of me, and for many minutes I was pinned, unable to move.

Finally Simone whispered, "Mesdames, I think maybe others would like to
use la toilette, n'est-ce pas?"

Then we heard a young male voice from the other side of the door,
"They're coming out!"

As quickly as possible in the cramped quarters we three tried to make
ourselves presentable, knowing we were doomed to failure.  Simone's arm
was pinned into a corner and Lanie's was trapped there with it; and
their free hands together didn't have the co-ordination to re-fasten
Lanie's bra.  I was soaked from chin to toe in their glorious
woman-nectar, but dreading to emerge from our little sexual hot-house.

"Come!" Simone whispered to both Lannie and me.  "We should be proud of
what we have been doing, giving pleasure to ourselves and each other.
Come, let us not hide, but show them all that we are the happiest of
women!"

If our fellow passengers had been loud when we had headed for the
washroom, on our return their applause was deafening.  The young man we
had heard announcing our return had been listening all along, and
giving a blow-by-blow description of every sound we made!  Not only
that, but on the small airplane Lanie was the only stewardess, and in
her absence another enterprising gentleman had discovered and
distributed the entire stock of alcohol on board for the next six
flights.

For the rest of the flight I could hear the whispers among my fellow
passengers, "She's the lady from EROS!"  and "If she does Simone on the
airplane, I'd love her to do me in the hotel room!"  Simone simply
adjusted her bra strap, and looked serenely smug.

Our pilot put us down smoothly on the beach landing strip of the small
island, and it was thirty very happy passengers who disembarked.  Lanie
gave me a farewell handshake and a wink as we parted, and reminded me
that she was assigned to this route for the duration of the NLMA
convention, and hoped to serve me on my return.  She had managed to
more-or-less straighten her flight hostess uniform, but I had kept her
panties as a souvenir.

International customs consisted of a uniformed young woman with a big
smile who waved at us as we boarded an open-air jitney bus that whisked
us off to Sybaris-Too.  The little bus wound its way among the palm
trees until it arrived at the ornate entrance to a long two-story
building, and we entered the spectacular triangular lobby.  The glass
ceiling and the absence of a wall on one side made it seem open to the
beauty of the surrounding seaside.  The check-in counter was mirrored
on the other side by a long bar, and I made a mental note to warn the
girls not to over-indulge.

Alixia had all the information so I left her to get us registered while
Jessie, Liz and I passed through the lobby and out onto the giant
terrace.  It too was roughly a triangle, surrounded on two sides by
long wings of the hotel.  The second floor rooms were set back a bit,
giving each room up there a private patio.  The ground floor rooms
opened directly onto the terrace.

The third side of the terrace was open to the azure sea, and we could
hear the waves pulsing gently on the shore.  We strolled around until
we came to a lovely little foot bridge that spanned a gap that let the
ocean into a huge irregular salt-water pool that dominated the terrace.
 "Look!" Jessie pointed, "That's where we'll be doing the fashion
shows!"

A long, narrow island of concrete reached most of the way across the
pool, connected to the side by another little bridge like the one we
stood on.  It was a perfect model's runway, surrounded by sparkling
blue water that appeared to be about 5' deep right alongside the
island, sloping up to only 3' deep further back.  Observers of the
fashion parades would have their choice of wading depth, or deck chairs
on dry land.

It seemed that the official uniform of the resort was a thong bikini
bottom and a wide-rimmed sun hat, both for men and women.  Few women
wore tops, and since the NLMA seemed to be taking over the entire
resort, women outnumbered men by a wide margin.  Conic Chinese-style
coolie hats seemed especially popular.  By contrast, we three began to
feel distinctly over-dressed, and Liz suggested that we go find Ali and
our room to change.

This seemed like a marvelous idea and we continued our tour around the
giant pool.  Suddenly we heard a vaguely familiar English voice,
"Margaret!  Oh Margaret!"  I looked around and in moments saw a figure
running toward me.

"Zeta!" I cried.  "What are you doing here?"  I was so happy to see a
familiar face, that I hugged her and kissed her hard.

"The same thing as you." Zeta explained.  "I am sales representative
for "Fela-friend, and Pleasure-matic.  I go to the NLMA convention
every year, and sales are always excellent!  I'm in room 145.  You must
come for a visit!"  I assured her that I would be delighted, introduced
her to the twins, and asked her if she knew where rooms 367 and 467
were.  "Of course!  See that bridge that goes onto the island there?
367 is right opposite it, and 467 is the one right on top of that!"
Zeta directed us.  I thanked her and promised to visit her later, say
around 7:00?  She agreed, then we three headed for our rooms.

Alixia was already there in 367, busily unpacking display lingerie and
hanging pieces on hangers.  We had ordered the room without beds, but
with extra clothes racks, and the hotel was happy to oblige.  The
result was a perfect informal show-room.  I decided that the first
thing to do would be to open an envelope of computer generated pages,
and tape them to the inside of the window.  With Liz out front to
direct the process I used half a roll of tape, and when we were done I
went outside to look at the result.  We had a sign:

Headquarters of
EROS Lingerie!
Come on inside!

We all changed into thong bikini panties that would fit in around here,
except for Ali who chose a lace teddy in which to greet potential
customers.  Then we worked through the afternoon getting everything
ready.  Several people did drop in, and were greeted with a subdued
version of the traditional EROS hello.

At 7 o'clock I strolled across the terrace and easily found #145.  Zeta
greeted me warmly, wearing a long white lace robe, held closed in front
only by a small diamond clasp just below her breasts.  It showed off
her lovely figure, silhouetted against the light of several candles
around and behind her, and it was clear that it was the only garment
she was wearing.  Her blonde hair glistened in the candle-light as she
greeted me with a long, warm kiss.  Slowly and seductively she pulled
me into the room and closed the door behind us.
=========
Dear Readers,
Sorry, I took a few days off from Margaret to write other stuff.
Check out 'Hogwarts' in the Lesbian/Celebrity section, or the latest
'Steven' episode in the Bisexual/Adult-Youth area :)