Date: Sun, 15 Nov 2015 14:08:42 -0800
From: Lily Jane <lilyjane21@telenova.us>
Subject: Coming Out: Part Two

Coming Out: Part Two
by
Lily Jane
©2015 Lily Jane

A lot has happened since that day in Jan's office when my life got turned
upside down. But before I get ahead of myself, I should tell you what
happened, in the order that it all occurred.

      After the crazed tongue-and-clit session on Jan's couch, I drifted
down to the street, my mind spinning like a whirlpool, all of my thoughts
out of control. In fact I was so dazed and confused that I started off
going east instead of west, and was only with a real effort that I made it
back to 57th to catch the crosstown bus.

      Everything out the window of the bus was a total blur. I didn't
recognize the city, and I could no longer recognize myself. I stared at my
reflection in the window and asked myself how I felt. The answer was that I
felt like a childÑa helpless child who knows nothing of the world, a kid
who has no idea who she is.

      Let me remind you, I'm twenty-one, and I had a lot of boyfriends in
college, guys who thought I was "hot." But right now I felt like some kind
of street waif who had fallen under the spell of an irresistible force. I
had fallen head-over-heals in love (if you can call it that) with a
breathtakingly beautiful, unbelievably worldly womanÑa woman who knew
all the things I didn't know but was eager to learn.

      I arrived back at our walkup in Hell's Kitchen (oh, how I hated that
place!), not as a sexy young girl who made guys melt, but as a lost soul,
unable to focus on anything, everything around me a blur.

      Eric, who knew me pretty well, knew in an instant that something was
out of whack. "Did you get it?" he, quite naturally, asked.

      Believe it ot not, I had no idea what he was talking about. And he
had to repeat what he said, this time adding, "The job."

      "Oh," I said, in what must have sounded like a dreamy, faraway
voice. "Oh yes...I got it...."

      But Eric pressed me for more. He wanted to know why I wasn't excited,
why I wasn't jumping up and down. So I had to think fast to come up with an
answer.

      I said, "I guess it just happened so fast." (And I was playing with
the buttons on my dress when I said that. To a more perceptive person than
Eric, that could have been a give-away). "She wants me to go to San
Francisco with her tomorrowÑto see a new client."

      "Oh fuck!" Eric said, kicking a kitchen cabinet. "We've got tickets
for 'Iceage'! We're going with Shana and Eddie."

      "Well, I'm going to San Fran," I said emphantically. "It's my chance
to see California."

      "You are so goddamned selfish!" he said. Then he walked away and got
a beer out of the fridge. (That's all he could sayÑand it was me who was
paying the rent while I worked on his so-called "career!")

      We didn't talk that night. We watched a meaningless TV show in
silence. And I got up at 6 the next morning and threw some stuff into a
battered-up suitcase, one with stickers from Bali and Chiang Mai, where all
good Aussies go during Spring Break. I was out the door and down the stairs
before he woke up.

      To say I was shaking would be an understatement. I'm not even sure,
right now, what it was that I was wearing. But I think it was my little tan
shift with bell sleeves and a zipper up the back. It was the shortest, most
scandalous dress I owned. (Now why, do you suppose, I would choose
that...?)

      Jan was waiting for me at JFK, pacing around outside the Admirals
Club, tapping her toes and staring at her (godawful expensive) watch. She
looked like Meryl Streep in "The Devil Wears Prada." She was wearing a sort
of Pucci print dress that was cut on the bias so it clung to every one of
her curves, and instead of the red Louboutin's that I'd expected, she was
in high heeled hemp mules (which made her look three inches taller than
meÑand I'm five-eight. And which made me feel all the more like the
ungainly child, the girl who knows nothing at all about the world. What the
hell had happened to me????

      Well, we shot back two glasses of single-barrel Bourbon in the lounge
(Jan ordered them "neat"). Then we boarded the planeÑfirst class, of
course, with adjoining seats and virtually the whole cabin to ourselves. A
classy stewardess greeted Jan by name and served us Champagne before we had
even settled into our seats. Then she explained that the luncheon special
was horseradish encrusted fresh salmon, which she said "paired nicely" with
a Chateau St. Jean Single Vineyard Chardonnay.

      We were about 45 minutes into the flight when Jan asked her friend
the stewardess for help with a blanket (she said she had "a chill"). The
stewardess, who was very compliant, proceeded to spread the blanket over
our legs and our thighs and tuck it neatly under our butts.

      Since it takes something like five hours to get from JFK to SFO, and
since I was obviously not going anywhere, Jan didn't have to a hurry. She
started off by running her fingernails up my legs, starting way down at my
calves and, painfully slowly, working her way higher. I think we were over
Cleveland when she finally got her fingers up under my dress and inside my
thong. Of course I was way past wet by then. So she had no trouble parting
my lips, and squeezing and teasing them until I could hardly stand any
more, before Ñwith a sudden, aggressive thrust that gave me a
shockÑthrusting a finger right up my cunt!

      At that point I let out a gasp that was unintentionally loudÑloud
enough so that it caught the stewardess's attention. I saw her shoot a
quick glance at her partner. They obviously knew. You'd have to be blind to
not notice that something naughty was going on under the blanket.

      You will recall that, at this point, I had been the recipient of all
the sex. I had never seen Jan naked and I had never really touched her. Not
until then, when she took my hand from my leg and shoved it up her dress,
planting it right on her cunt. Unlike me, Jan had a soft, furry bush
(Stupid me! I was, once again, out of style). Oh yes, and she had
"forgotten" to wear panties.

      So we diddled each other's clits all the way across the continent. I
came somewhere over the Midwest (I wasn't really looking out the window, so
I could be wrong), and Jan came more than once before we reached
Denver. Each time she came, she let me sniff her fingerÑa little gesture
that the classy stewardess didn't fail to catch. (But I guess she was well
aware of Jan's pastimes: she was always bopping back and forth between the
coasts).

      It was still early in the afternoon when we got off the plane in San
Francisco. Jan had a limo waiting at the airport and it took us straight to
the Fairmont Hotel, up on a hill, and after floating through the sumptuous
lobby, we went straight to our suiteÑa suite that was three times the
size of the hovel that Eric and I occupied in NY. Though we had a
spectacular view of the Bay, Jan pulled the curtains closed, and then we
went straight to bedÑwhere we made love, in every imaginable position
and in every imaginable way, for something like six hoursÑanyway, for so
long that I was weak in the knees from coming.

      I should tell you that Jan, for a woman of any age, has an incredible
body: breasts like a twenty year old, a flat tummy, and the most beautiful,
most elegant ass I have ever seen. I could spend all day just worshipping
her body.

      By the time the sex was over, I was a mess, and the elegant bed was a
total disaster. We were both too weak to do anything, so Jan ordered
dinnerÑnot, of course, asking me what I wanted (what would I know? I'm
just a kid), but choosing a lot of things I had never heard of. I assumed
they were odd parts of animals. And she ordered two bottles of French wine,
with a bucket of ice.

      Up until then, there was no mention of the photographer we were
supposed to meet. And her name didn't come up until two days later, by
which time I had been fucked silly and had almost forgotten my name (I
always thought girls could come only once a week. It was Nature's
design. But I found out, during the three days of my "captivity" in the
hotel, that it was likely just one more of those myths that men made up).

      Oh shit! I was going to tell you about the photographer (what a piece
of work!), about our "little side trip" to Las Vegas with a couple of Jan's
kinky friends, and about my meltdown with Eric. But I've already gone on
too long and so I'll leave the juicy part till later.

______________________

Oh yes, and I have just finished "The Moonflower Diaries," my first eBook!
(though I'm still tweaking it). I wrote virtually the whole thing in a
suite at the Four Seasons in Beverly Hills, overlooking the babes by the
pool. And I blame Jan for everything I wrote. If you're not afraid of
girl-on-girl sex, you can find it on Amazon books. (Since my folks are
still "upstanding" citizens in BrisbaneÑ they never knew about the sex
tapes and they will never think to check out Nifty.orgÑI published it
under a pseudonym. I'm sure you would do the same.)



And again, if you feel inspired to write to me, you can find me at
lilyjane21@telenova.us