Ethical Slut - Dossie Easton [131]
Then Lottie came in—close to June’s age, but not dressed like it. Lottie’s obviously dyed, flaming red curls set off a black chiffon dress through which could be clearly seen long black stockings, a black leather corset, and a great deal of voluptuous pale flesh. How does she balance on those heels, June wondered, as Lottie hugged, kissed, and chatted her way through the progressively less clothed mass of partygoers. June overheard Lottie thanking various women for their participation in a previous orgy held in celebration of Lottie’s fiftieth birthday. Do these people ever get together and not have sex, wondered June.
Puppy piles began to form on the floor in front of the couch where June was sitting—untidy heaps of women necking and petting, smiling and laughing, Lottie and Carol conspicuously among them. June decided to retreat to the deck, where she could perhaps soak out her terror in the hot tub.
The hot tub was quieter, and June managed to chat with a few women and began feeling marginally more comfortable. Then Lottie reappeared. Off came the dress, the stockings, the shoes—June found herself wondering what it would feel like if she could see Lottie’s pussy and instantly wondered if anyone else had noticed her looking. Lottie slipped into the warm water and immediately asked June if she would rub her neck, because it felt stiff. “Sure,” June heard herself say, “I’d be happy to.” Oh, no, she thought, what have I let myself in for?
Lottie’s skin felt warm and silky under her fingers, and June rubbed and soothed. June felt relaxed by the rhythm of massage and reassured as Lottie conversed about perfectly normal things: her work and June’s, their philosophies of life, June’s Buddhism, Lottie’s paganism. Eventually, Lottie’s neck relaxed, and the hot tub began to feel too warm, and Lottie brightly suggested they find out what was going on inside. She climbed out of the tub, pulled on her stockings and heels, and darted inside. Holy Minerva, thought June, can I follow her in there? No, she decided firmly, I can’t. June found a table in a corner on the patio and determinedly admired the stars.
Lottie, meanwhile, was finding she had a thing or two to think about as well. In the living room, her friends were happily disporting themselves on couches, in armchairs, and in front of the fire, but Lottie was thinking about June. What is it about her that turns me on so much? Does she like me? Will she play with me? Doesn’t look like she’s used to playing at parties—ah, well, there’s always a first time. Now where did that girl go?
Lottie scanned the living room, but there was no June to be found. The living room was actually pretty interesting, and Lottie contemplated giving up the chase and finding a friend to play with, but intrigue triumphed. She made her way toward the kitchen, stepping over various happy people and lingering here and there to appreciate some particularly exciting activity. Pausing to check out the dip and replenish her blood sugar, Lottie looked out the window and there was June, hiding out on the patio.
Ah, here’s the opportunity, thought Lottie as she arranged a few goodies on a plate and trotted outside to share them with June. But, although they were chatting quite amiably, Lottie felt she wasn’t connecting. Her most flirtatious sallies were met with no response whatsoever: June, petrified, would only breathe deep and consciously hold as still as she could. Lottie, frustrated, decided on the direct approach. “I think you’re really attractive. Would you like to play with me? What sort of things do you like to do?” June, cornered again, stammered, “I don’t think I’m ready to have sex in public, so sorry.”
Just then, Carol, sans cowboy hat but still wearing her boots although she seemed