Date: Wed, 18 Nov 2015 10:15:11 -0800
From: Lily Jane <lilyjane21@telenova.us>
Subject: Coming Out, Part Three

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

I really didn't intend to keep doing this--telling the story of my Big
Life-Changing Adventure. I planned to give it a break, maybe for a month or
two. But Jan (what is she doing there?) is still not back from Europe and
I'm still staring out the window at the impossibly beautiful bodies arrayed
around the pool. (I comfort myself by assuming they are all on the payroll
of fat, stubby-faced producers like Harvey Weinstein).

      But the babes by the pool are not the point. Or maybe they are:
because, with Jan gone and with nothing to look at those perfect tits and
asses in their micro bikinis, I have been spending more than my customary
amount of time sprawled naked across the bed with my hands all over myself.

      Not that I dislike masturbation or have anything against it. In fact,
I love it! But I got really used to sex with Jan, and she's now been gone
almost two fiucking weeks! (What would you do if you were stuck for two
weeks in a high-class hotel room with a big, inviting bed, and nothing at
all to do?)

      An embarrassing confession: my all-time favorite masturbation
fantasies is I'm on a bed in an expensive hotel and forbidden things to
myself while, in a room overlooking mine, a beautiful older woman is
studiously watching me. (I know, I know: I should have known right then
that I was gay, or at least bi.)

      But, apart from that, what is my thing for older women? Not horny
girls my age, no matter how cute they are. But older, world-wise women like
Jan. Maybe all my life I have been looking for an authority figure, a
disciplinarian, a teacher....

      Well, let's get back to Jan and me in San Francisco. You may recall
that the "reason" for our trip to the Coast was to meet with this
prospective new client for the agency--a hot photographer that everyone on
the Coast was talking about.

      It was on our third day in SF that Jan let me out of bed and arranged
for us to meet her. And that meeting was a real shocker!  Her name was
Nikki (she had no last name, as far as I could tell) and we went to her
studio on Folsom Street, right in the center of kinkyville, USA. On one
corner there was a big leather fetish store and across the street was a
coffee shop where the barista (who was wearing a red spandex bustier and
mean looking stiletto boots) served us Macchiatos (whatever they are) in
doggy bowls!

      But Nikki was the real show-stopper! We went up the stairs to her
studio and found her in the middle of a shoot. Let me describe Nikki, if I
can. She is something like six-two and she looks a lot like Grace
Jones--glistening, really-black skin and a crew cut. But--and this is the
real shocker--when we walk in she is totally naked and prancing around this
big empty room with her camera, while this model (who was probably four
years younger than me), wearing a little white shift that scarcely covered
her ass, did every possible thing that Nikki could think of with, including
a bunch of things that, despite my fixation on older women, actually got me
wet.

      "She always works naked," Jan told me, matter-of-factly. "It's her
thing. It inspires the models."

      It turns out that Nikki specialized in street-waif-types who look
like they grew up a tumbledown shack on the prairies, perpetually bored and
perpetually hungry for sex.

      But the surreal thing, at least to me, was that, unlike her, the
models in her photos were clothed (if you could call it that: their girlish
bodies were covered with little shabby chic items you could see right
through and that looked like they came from Goodwill).

      We were leaving Nikki's studio when Jan told me that Nikki and her
"boyfriend" were going with us to Las Vegas for the weekend, "just to get
away."

      Well, this was all news to me! First I was making a quick roundtrip
to San Francisco with my boss (a "business trip") and now I was running off
for a weekend in Las Vegas with a naked Nubian princess and her (no-doubt)
kinky "boyfriend."

      Jan and I checked out of the Fairmont (her with her Luis Vuittons and
me with my beatup old suitcase) and flew to Las Vegas, where we met up with
Jan and her "boyfriend" in a sexy bar at the Wynn. The boyfriend was a
British "film producer" with prematurely grey hair that he was really long
and made him look like a mad man. I have to say, the boyfriend and Nikki
made quite a sight!--him with his wild hair and his pasty white skin and
her with her shiny ebony bod and her severe crewcut!

      There was no doubt in my mind that Jan was planning a foursome (could
this be the way she "checked out" new clients?). And all through dinner
that night, which was in a cabana by the pool (where it was like 99 degrees
at midnight!), I kept wondering how the fourway might work. Let me tell,
you I had no intention of having sex of any sort with the pasty Brit. And I
was equally dubious about Nikki: she looked like the kind of creature who
would force some kind of rough sex on me--like trying to shove her fist up
my ass.

      So, by the time they served dessert I was giving serious thought to
checking out of the Wynn and going back home--home to Hell's Kitchen and
everything that was normal and safe (Eric belching as he guzzled his beer,
me trying to keep roaches out of the fridge).

      Then Jan got a phone call. Or, rather, I got a phone call. But Jan
and I had got our phones switched up and she had mine in her pocket.

      It was Eric. So what did Jan do? She whispered, in this soft, sexy
voice, "Hold on, honey. She's right here." Then she handed the phone to me
with a "It's for you, babe...." Maybe it was something about the way she
said that, or maybe it was the giggling and clinking of glasses at the
table and the splashes and sqeuals from the pool. But that's all it took
for Eric.

      He called me a "fucking whore" and told me we were through. I offered
a lame, "I'm sorry...." (I really was, sort of). Then I told him I'd be
back to pick up my stuff. But he just snapped back, "You know what you can
do? You can pick up your shit at Patti's. I'll dump all your fucking
panties and sexy skirts on her!"

      Then he hung up. Just like that!

      My days as a straight girl were over. And it was a great relief! Jan
had freed me not only from a bad relationship but from an identity that
didn't really fit. Now I was free.

      But I still had to deal with the fourway. And the truth is, I just
couldn't. So I pretended that the call from Eric had really upset me and I
just needed to go back to the room and go straight to bed. And they bought
it completely. So I left the three of them at the table with their martinis
and went straight up to the room and crawled into bed, read a couple of
erotic stories on this site, and then went off to sleep--feeling really
good about myself.

      Sure, I was Jan's sex slave. But I wasn't going to do everything she
wanted me to do. I was a one-on-one girl. An old fashioned girl. A girl
from a good family in Brisbane (I was once Miss Sunshine Coast, and they
gave me a pink surfboard and put my picture in the paper). I made up my
mind right there and then that, as soon as I got the opportunity, I was
going back to New York.

      Well, of course--given that it is now three months later and I'm
sitting on the edge of my bed in the Four Seasons in LA, waiting for Jan to
get back from Berlin or wherever--things didn't work out like I
planned. I'm holed up here and I'm getting totally fucking addicted to
masturbation. (If any of you have any good masturbation fantasies--I've
pretty much wrung all the juice that I can from my favorite script, the one
about the woman who's watching me--please post them on this site. I'm
desperate).

      OK, it looks like this story will have to go on. And you probably
wonder how I got from Las Vegas to LA and why I am still here in this
hotel, with my finger on my clit. (Actually, girls, in case you didn't
know, you can't type that way. It takes two hands...).

_______________________

Oh well. I'm pleased to say that my erotic eBook "The Moonlight Diaries" is
picking up steam on Amazon (a nice double entrendre). Check it out if you
need some inspiration on those nights when you're alone and feeling
itchy. And if you have an itch to write to me, I'm here at
lilyjane21@telenova.us.