The rain bounced off the storefront window like tiny pebbles. Without sentiment, wave after wave of wind pushed in the fall months. Temperatures were dropping, the tourists were leaving and Diana Foster was looking at a long, off-season alone.
During the summer months Diana’s fabric store was a favorite among the well-heeled women from Manhattan and the Boston suburbs. Busy from opening to closing, each day passed in a blur. But the winter months were different. Diana worked mostly by herself, designing the living rooms, family rooms and bedrooms of the part-timers that came to this little New England village by the sea. She made good money, she loved her work but the widow found little to fill the absence of her husband.
Genevieve was leaving tomorrow. A college girl with impeccable taste and a western flare, she’d come to Diana at a friend’s suggestion. Arriving in May and working through the summer, Genevieve was a neon reminder of the endless possibility of youth. Every day was an adventure, every customer fascinating, every summer date promised love or at least a bit of hot, naughty sex. For Genevieve, life ran at full speed. She made no apologies for her candor, no excuses for her behavior.
With an enormous gust of wind, she came through the door. Her ivory, lace mini skirt pressed against her hips, cowboy boots damp to the ankles and the shoulders of her jean jacket darkened by rain. But her face was radiant as always, with sky blue eyes and wisps of blond curls falling around her ears and tanned neck.
“Jesus, it’s like a hurricane out there!”
“Good morning, Genevieve. You didn’t really need to come in today.”
“I wanted to. I wasn’t going to drink this all by myself.”
From a drenched paper bag, Genevieve pulled out a magnum of Veuve Clicquot. With eyes alight, she put it on the store counter and produced two, tall, plastic flutes.
“Can you believe it? I won this at that freaking trivia contest last night down at Joe’s. Competition was weak and the categories were right up my alley: Romcoms, football heroes and geography. Crushed it. Won this and thought I’d share it with you.”
She smiled, all full lips and symmetrical, white teeth. If there were a law against perfection, Genevieve would be jailed.
“Drinking at work? You’re such a bad influence, thank God you’re on your way out the door,” Diana teased.
“Should I open it? Before I get fired.”
“Right now?”
“Or wait? For what, the big, lunchtime rush? Come on sister, this thing’s cold and nobody in their right mind is shopping for fabric today. If I’m wrong, I’ll spend the rest of the day buck naked doing inventory.”
Diana laughed but felt a special thrill at the thought that image inspired. She’d felt increasingly attracted to this young woman in a way that she never had before. She’d noticed it first on a sticky, hot afternoon. They’d closed shop early and drove out to the beach for a swim. Genevieve’s tiny, white bikini had barely contained her thick breasts and for far too long, Diana had admired the audacious delight of her employee’s backside. At first she thought of it as a wonder of nature, a piece of art. But as her gaze lingered and Genevieve strolled to the water’s edge, it felt more like something Diana wanted. Later that night, she woke up tangled in her sheets, wet down there and confused by the sudden turn of her subconscious. The dreams continued throughout the summer, she enjoyed them but looked forward to their end and their off-putting complexity.
The champagne popped with a boisterous rush. Genevieve giggled and poured the flutes full to the rim. She put on Patsy Cline and the wind outside whirled the store into a cocoon of intimacy. They raised their glasses to one another and drank.
“Let’s play ‘Truth or Dare.’” Genevieve’s enthusiasm was undeniable, no matter how ridiculous the suggestion.
“My truths are all boring and my days for daring have gone by.”
“Bullshit. You’re the coolest woman I know.”
Flattered by the compliment, Diana looked away and flushed. It was striking to feel relevant to a much younger woman. There was a rush of sensuality through her, a glint of pride, a welcome uptick in her self-confidence. She looked back from the storm and said, “Oh, alright. Let’s play.”
“Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“OK,” Genevieve crossed her legs and leaned forward with a new therapist’s interest, “When was the last time you had sex?”
“Oh my God, you’re not wasting any time here are you?”
Genevieve wanted to know. She did not blink or smile.
Diana sighed, “It’s embarrassing. It’s been a couple of years. I tried to date a bit after Nick but… it just didn’t work.”
The champagne was sweet and tickled the tip of her nose. Diana took refuge in the glass, putting it between her, the young woman and the feelings that were starting to flow more freely from this untapped source within her fifty-year-old body. Another gust of wind, Genevieve looked outside for a moment and Diana wondered if she might be imagining her own life someday. Feeling protective, the boss offered what she knew was a lie.
“It’s not that bad, really. You get used to it.”
“I don’t think I could ever get used to that. I just enjoy it so much. Somebody’s hands on me, feeling that connection, losing myself in it all.”
“Well…”
They looked at each other, a pause full of meaning or maybe awkwardness. More rain, September coming on strong. On the pink and white silk-upholstered chair, Genevieve uncrossed her legs and put both boots on the floor turning slightly to Diana. Her knees apart, tan thighs forming an intersection that seemed to present an open invitation.
“Your turn to ask me.”
“Truth or Dare?”
“Dare. Of course.”
Diana’s nipples distracted her. A thin cotton t-shirt and sheer bra were a poor choice for the self-conscious. She folded her arms across her chest and thought she registered a fleck of disappointment in Genevieve’s eyes.
“Let me see, ah…”
Like a Labrador ready to chase a tennis ball, Genevieve waited expectantly for her challenge. Diana’s interior monologue was as storm-tossed as the day’s weather, she rocked back and forth debating to ask what she wanted or what was appropriate to ask of a twenty-one-year-old employee. Rejection or worse threatened like a thunderhead but Diana focused instead on the voice inside her that proposed, “What if she wants me?” The thought of it was beautifully overwhelming. She took a deep pull from the flute. Genevieve raised her eyebrows begging to be sent into motion.
“I dare you to pretend that a customer has come in.” It came out haltingly.
Genevieve was puzzled, “What do you mean?”
The confusion caused the blood to roar in Diana’s ears. She flushed again but this time with shame. Immediately, she regretted playing the game, opening the champagne or even having a single one of her dreams.
Genevieve leaned closer and rested her hand just above Diana’s knee.
“I don’t get it,” she smiled, “pretend there’s a customer here?” Her little nose crinkled up, like she really wanted to figure this out. Diana could tell she was a bit tipsy. Maybe, this would work or at least be written off as a liquid bit of nonsense.
“You said that if a customer came in today, you would… you know…” Diana so desperately wanted Genevieve to take her dare she couldn’t finish the asking of it. Tongue-tied she stopped her breathing, and sucked in every detail of that warm hand on her thigh and hoped and hoped and closed her eyes. Genevieve’s laughter tinkled through the store.
“You want me to get naked?” Diana opened her eyes, the world still spun, this might happen.
“Diana, you’re my boss! What are you going to do to me?” Genevieve was playful, her voice full of bassy music. As she stood up and above Diana, it felt like one of the lost breezes of the summer had somehow found its way back to the store. Diana sat back and savored the success of her bold ask. Without another word, her employee pulled her shirt over her head and deftly undid her bra. The sight of those free breasts was positively sumptuous: pale pink areolas, their nubs twisted hard and purple, in striking contrast to the surrounding flesh barely covered all summer by her bikini top.
“I love my tits,” Genevieve said looking down and holding them in her tan hands. “All summer I’ve wanted you to touch them.” Her eyes lifted to Diana’s. Outside the wind raged. “Will you?” she asked soft and low.
Diana struggled to take it all in, she needed to catch her breath, she needed everything inside to calm down just a bit.
“The dare was for you to get naked, not topless.” Did she really just say that?
“You’re such a demanding boss.” With a mocking smile, Genevieve unzipped her skirt. “That’s part of why I like you so much, you make people stick to the deals they make.” The lacy garment dropped to the floor. Thumbs hooked under the delicate material of her thong and eased it down those smooth, slinky legs. “I’m going to keep my boots on just ‘cause I think they look so good.”
Genevieve straightened up and stood before the older woman. An expert in exquisite, Diana took it all in from bottom to top: worn brown boots, shapely calves, smooth knees and honey-colored thighs. They came together in a perfect hairless crease, just a touch of puffiness at the bottom of a gently rounded stomach. Lifting her eyes further, Diana found those beautiful breasts hanging like sweet fruit in a secret garden. Meeting Genevieve’s gaze, Diana knew her mouth was open but she couldn’t find the will to close it.
“Now will you touch me?”
“I haven’t done this with a woman.”
“I have.” Genevieve moved even closer. “You’re gonna like it.”
“I don’t…” Diana could barely think, let alone speak.
“Why don’t you sit on the divan?” As always, Genevieve had a good suggestion. “Settle in there and I’ll just lie back against you and we can watch the storm.”
Patsy Cline’s Crazy drifted through the store. Outside the pines whipped back and forth and thunder rolled out over the bay. Genevieve crawled between Diana’s legs, smiled, turned and laid back with a dancer’s ease. Her silky hair pressed against the older woman’s face. It smelled like wildflowers and fresh air.
“Touch me, Diana. Please, I want you to.” Her face lifted, eyes closed and lips parted. Diana wondered at the silliness of definitions and categories. She licked her lips and pressed them against the ones before her. They were met with a heavy, welcoming sigh followed by a warm tongue pushing up and finding the inside of Diana’s mouth. It was gentle, delicious and confident of what the recipient desired. Distracted by the pleasure, by the closeness, Diana stopped thinking and began doing. She put her hand on her lover’s cheek and slid it lightly up and down the graceful neck.
Genevieve purred her encouragement and snuggled deeper into her boss, arching her back like the most privileged housecat. Diana dropped her hands to the sides of Genevieve’s breasts. Her fingers crept towards their center and made tantalizing circles around the nipples, raising the flesh to stiff excitement. Reaching one hand behind Diana’s head, Genevieve gently pulled at the roots of her boss’ hair, then reached up to nibble on her ear, it sent shudders through Diana and they both giggled at the response.
“Pull my nipples, Boss.”
“Like this?” Diana cupped her girl’s breasts holding their most sensitive points between her thumb and forefingers and gently tugging.
“Fuck that feels good. Yes, like that.”
Genevieve’s hand dropped to her own lap, fingers working up, down, around.
“Hey Boss, I’m just saying, I cum quick when I do this.”
Diana wrapped her arms around her young lover. The two of them squirmed against each other, whimpers fought the sound of the wind, breathing started and stopped, broken up by new areas of discovery, encouraged when a rhythm was established.
Still, fully clothed, Diana found herself humping the robust firm ass in front of her like a teenaged boy. The warm breasts in her hands were endlessly fascinating, so firm, responsive and good. Her hunger for all this was far beyond what she could have imagined and she feasted on the soft, undeniable seduction of the female body at the peak of its powers.
“Harder!”
Genevieve’s hand was getting urgent, she tucked her booted feet up near her ass and raised herself up off the divan. Suddenly, jealous that she hadn’t been invited to touch that peachy delight, Diana took a wicked pleasure in bearing down hard on the buds between her fingers and hearing the keening wail that pressure and pleasure drove out of Genevieve. Like a girl at the county fair, she screamed long and loud, her body rolling up and down in a quivering release.
Diana could feel her own finish approach like a comet. She wrapped her legs around, her employee and pushed her aching pussy against Geneveive’s ass, finally finding enough friction to get her where she needed to be. She humped her love again and again and then came herself in a husky roar that faded only when Genevieve smothered her mouth with lips and tongue.
For a moment, there was stillness. Then from across the Atlantic, another wave of forced air pressed against the windows and they both began to breathe again. The rain came down in a torrent.
“It’s your turn, truth or dare?”
“You gotta be kidding me.”
“Truth or dare?”
Genevieve had turned over and was now lying on her boss’s chest, her face so close it begged to be kissed not denied.
“I’ll go dare,” Diana ventured.
“I dare you to let me go down on you.”
“Really?” The mechanics and boundaries of this still seemed strange, far from obvious.
“Eating pussy’s one of my favorite things in life. Swear. And I can’t wait to taste yours.”
Her leggings were already getting pulled down past Diana’s hips. Genevieve was on to her next big adventure. Diana closed her eyes and gave in to the undeniable forces of nature.
