Ethical Slut - Dossie Easton [132]
Carol asked what was her fancy, and Lottie suggested that she had a yen for a sensitive fist, and Carol said she would be happy to oblige but first needed to check with Susie about a plan they had for later. Both happily trotted off, and June was left to herself. Was she relieved, she wondered? Well … not exactly.
Returning to the living room, Lottie was surprised to see Carol and June both sitting in the window seat, backs to the sides, feet in the middle. Lottie, never slow to leap on opportunity, sashayed across the room, climbed up on both pairs of feet, and proclaimed, “Here I am!” Carol, well versed in the ways of femmes, called for gloves and lube and firmly pushed Lottie into June’s lap: “Will you hold her for me, please?” June opened her mouth, but nobody waited for her answer—and next thing, there she was, holding Lottie’s gently squirming body. Amazing, thought June, just amazing. She got a good grip on Lottie, took a deep breath, and off she went on the ride.
June concentrated on keeping up a good front and trying not to notice several smiling women who had settled down to watch the action on the window seat, while Carol competently went to work to turn Lottie on, lube her up, and get her off. Omigod, thought June, how am I going to get through this? I’m touching this woman’s breast and I hardly know her. Maybe, she thought, I can pretend this is someone I’ve already made love with.
Lottie had braced her foot over Carol’s shoulder against the window frame and was energetically pushing herself down on Carol’s hand. She let out a big groan as the hand slipped in, and they both started fucking hard and loud. June had all she could do to prevent Lottie from writhing out of her grip and falling onto the floor. Lottie finally came—loudly, noticed June, very loudly—and June noticed she hadn’t breathed for a while and took a big gasping breath. All three let their bodies go limp on the window seat and invested a few moments in just feeling good.
Reality eventually asserted itself. Lottie sat up and politely offered to fuck Carol in return. Carol said no, thanks, I already promised Susie, and Lottie and Carol went off in different directions, leaving June alone on the window seat and feeling a bit thunderstruck. I must have fallen into some other universe, marveled June. Who are these women, anyway? Although it was kind of fun, and I think I did okay. But it was still too much. I think I’d better go to sleep.
A day passed. Back at home, Lottie found she could not stop thinking about June. She called Flash and discovered that June had flown out of San Francisco that morning. Two days later, June received this letter:
Dear June,
It’s a beautiful morning up here on my mountain, the sun is streaming through the redwood trees, the sky is very blue with little cloud puffs—yesterday, walking up on the ridge, I saw a huge jackrabbit. The irises are finished, and it’s time for morning glories, rhododendrons, and lots of tiny bright exquisite flowers to whom I have not been properly introduced. Do you live in the city? If I make your mouth water for the mountains, will you come visit me?
Who are you anyway? Write me and tell me about yourself. I am particularly interested in how, as a Buddhist, you deal with desire and passion. I’ve been thinking some about this since we met and realized that I am not a Buddhist because, although I have gotten a great deal from my connections to Zen, including learning a lot about letting go of desire, my spiritual path is about grasping desire (passion might be a more appropriate word here) as if it were the ox and riding it as a vehicle to communion