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Night on the Town

The girls and I go out to a lesbian bar.
Night on the Town

Barbara Marsh

“Well, come on, chicken!”

I responded, “Cluck, cluck.”

Okay, so I know it’s not original, but it was the best I could do. Despite my misgivings, I got out of the minivan, smoothed my skirt across my hips, and waited for Alexis. Her name’s really Alice, but she was Alexis for the night. The same way Jeanna was Gina and I was Betinna. I don’t remember whose idea it was, but it was supposed to make us more exotic. Yeah, right. Three going on forty (or slightly over that limit - I’m not tattling) soccer moms getting exotic.

Not that we didn’t do our best. We all sported new hairdos – mine was cut short with a sweep over the ears, Alexis had reddish extensions, Gina had a fresh frost – and were dressed for a night on the town. I knew that I was going to turn heads. I had on a raw silk blouse, well what passes for raw silk these synthetic days (what do Chinese silkworms do for a living now?) and a slightly short charcoal gray skirt. I wore the highest heels I could balance on, nearly four and a half inches.

Gina stashed her keys in her clutch and we were ready. Well, almost ready. I had to take several deep breaths. This was out of my league. Or was it? I hadn’t needed too much convincing when Jeanna, my bridge playing friend from down the street had suggested a girls’ night out. A special girls’ night out. And when the whole plan was hatched, I hadn’t protested too much the details. We were the Three Musketeers, all for one, one for all, one monkey don’t stop no show, It’ll be FUN!

Maybe so, I thought…

Not wanting to look like country cousins in the big city, we walked straight up to the door, three abreast. The blue neon sign over the door wasn’t garish. Les Nuits des Paris. It almost rhymed. Paris Nights. There was nothing garish about the club, at least not outside. There were potted palm trees and the facade had a Moorish look to it, with an arched entryway, heavy doors with wrought iron grills, and, above, slot windows and balconies. French Algeria, Morocco, Casablanca, Rick and Ilsa, We’d never set foot inside, of course, but word got around in suburbia. It was supposed to be the classiest lesbian bar in the city.

Two men paced slowly in front of the building. They were dressed alike in Hollywood - I've never been to Algeria, maybe the garb's authentic - Arabic, fezes, white blouses, and striped baggy trousers with bright red sash at their waist. Otherwise, the men were polar opposites. One was a big bruiser with a shaved head and a neck as big 'round as my thigh, obviously a palace guardian (a eunuch? I wondered) who wore an authentic looking scimitar thrust into his sash. The second man was slender and effeminate. He opened the door for us as Mr. Muscles bowed and salaamed.

“Here we go,” I whispered to my friends as we entered.

A Middle Eastern maitre d’ in a tux met us. Gina asked for a table. He nodded, swished right along, and we swivel-hipped in tow. I added up impressions as we walked. All the staff were men at Paris Nights. The only hustling was supposed to be among the patrons. Maybe it made the customers feel safer, or something. The place had muted lighting, small pools from ceiling fixtures for each table, spots around the oval bar, and multi- colored disks playing over the dance floor. Ceiling fans spun slowly, swirling clouds of cigarette smoke. The room, for a Saturday, was about a third full. It was only 10:00, early. I thought, “Give it an hour,” as I perched on a stool at a tall table of four. The pose let me show some leg. I have nice legs, if I do say so myself.

A waiter appeared immediately. I ordered a margarita, Gina (skinny bitch with a metabolic rate of a hummingbird!) got a beer. Red wine for Alexis.

We made small talk as we watched the room. There were a few groups like ours and not many singles. Most of the customers were couples. I expected that to change, too. The deejay in his glassed in enclosure played a mixture of jazz and R&B. None of the music was loud. The conversations were muted, too. The drink was cold and good. I slowly became aware that I was being watched. It was nothing as obvious as if Tom and I were in a sports bar. Certainly I wasn’t being gawked at, but I knew I was being appraised by a few women. That’s when I realized I was looking, too.

So were Gina and Alexis. We put our heads together and compared notes. I was amazed how my mind was working. I looked at my neighbors for the first time in a new light: Gina, slender as a top model, her hair a silver cap, her dress a metallic turquoise slit up to her hip, dark tan; Alexis, not as big in the bust as me, but showing lots of cleavage in a blazer with a pendant accentuating the plunge, skorts that showed off her magnificent legs in smoky stockings and black stiletto heels. We all looked good. Hell, we looked sexy. I decided I was going to play the part. I crossed, uncrossed my legs, let a foot dangle, laughed a lot at dirty jokes, told a few myself, and before I knew it, the room was crowded, the dance floor was active, and Gina was gone. I saw her in the arms of a woman who matched her inch for inch in height, but was too curvy for the typical runway. And there was a fresh drink in front of me, one I hadn’t ordered.

As I raised the cold mixture to my lips, I looked over the bar. A statuesque blond in a long sleeved beige lace blouse and miniskirt watched me and nodded. She smiled. I smiled back. Alexis whispered in my ear that she was going to dance and the blond came over.

“Hello, I’m Shondra. Join you?” Her smile radiated sex. Her voice whispered seduction.

I matched her smile in wattage. I gestured at the stool beside me. “Thanks for the drink. I’m Betinna.”

Shondra took the indicated stool. “Nice to meet you. You’re new here?”

“Me and the girls decided to see what it’s like.”

“And what’s it like?”

“It just got more interesting.”

She put her hand on mine, long fingered, wedding band, engagement ring with a big sparkle, carmine nails. Her hand was cool, surprising me. She leaned forward and I was looking at a cleavage every bit as deep as Alexis’. Shondra glanced down from my face. My nipples tightened. I knew from past experience that, braless in this blouse, I was visible.

“How nice,” she complimented.

I twisted my wrist so we held hands. “I could say the same thing. Hello, Grand Canyon!”

OK so it was crass, worthy of a college freshman at Hooters, but her display was so blatant, I knew it was what she expected.

“My husband’s a trial lawyer. I’m his trophy. He didn’t mind the cost of a boob lift.’

The rings had told me, but I didn’t think she’d be so open about her status. Her other hand reached out for my left. She touched the faint furrow where my own rings usually reside. I knew in the dimness she couldn’t see the slightly lighter skin against my pale tan. “Don’t worry honey. We get all types in here. Probably half of the girls are just like us. Kids and husband at home, we’re out for a little thrill, they’ll never know…”

“Tom will appreciate me more…”

We laughed. She nodded and said, “How right you are!”

I waggled a finger for a waiter. Shondra was sipping champagne.

“Have you ever…?”

I told the truth. “Not since college. You know how sororities are. You might not really want to, but you’ve been at a party and she’s there and you think, Why not? It might be fun. And it doesn’t mean I’m a lesbian…”


I recounted the events leading up to tonight. Her pale blue eyes, not contacts, I realized, rarely left my face. Her hand rested lightly on my knee. I pressed my leg against hers. We made small talk, letting our bodies do the real conversing.

“I love this song,” she interrupted when Nat Cole came over the speakers. “Dance with me?”

I nodded. On the dance floor, I moved easily in her arms. We were about the same height; our breasts rubbed gently together. When the song ended, I kissed her. It wasn’t an involved kiss, no tongue, but our lips clung together. Finally we separated and went back to my table. Alexis was there, alone. I introduced Shondra. They kissed on the cheek. We had another round of drinks. Shondra took out a pack of Virginia Slims. Usually, I’m not much of a smoker, but I took a cigarette. Alexis lit it for me with an incredibly slender gold lighter. Gina came by, holding the hand of a tiny Asian girl. She said her name was Akito. They disappeared. Alexis went to dance with someone. Shondra and I kissed and then rubbed our cheeks together. I nuzzled her ear.

“I like your friends.”

“Shit,” I said. “I hoped you like me.”

“Like doesn’t do it justice,” she told me as she slipped her hand inside my blouse. I gasped at the pleasant contact. Her touch was incredible. My breast swelled in her hand as if my flesh and tissues were flowing to meet her..

“Shondra,” I barely whispered.

“Give me one hour, darling.”

“I want the night.”

She palmed my tit as I leaned forward to kiss her. Our tongues met. It was the sweetest, yet most incredibly hot kiss I’d had in years. I never wanted it to end.

Shondra moved away. She released my breast and cupped my face in both hands. Her eyes were dark with lust. Her voice was husky. “I want – I want the night, too, sweet Betinna. But all I have is an hour for you.”

I put my hand on her leg, ran up to the top of her stocking and stopped when I got to the elastic of her garter. It was wanton, yes, but others were groping, tonguing, loving, and I didn’t want to leave her.

“Tonight, an hour. And if we’re right for each other, I’ll see you again, darling.”

I had to accept it. I asked her where we would go.

“They have private alcoves. They’re perfect.”

“All right.”

Shondra swept away to talk to the maitre d’. She was back in minutes. “Come along.”

I made one stop at the ladies’ room, rushing to piss and touch up my make-up. My panties were moist with excitement. I was glad I’d chosen a garter and hose; I would’ve burned up in pantyhose. I patted my hair and joined Shondra in the corridor. We walked arm in arm up a broad sweep of curved stairs to a wide hall darkly paneled. There were half a dozen doors on either side. Our hips pressed together as she unlocked a door with a shiny gold key. The alcove was dimly lit. A silver ice bucket sat on a chrome table in front of a broad low divan. There was a wrapped bottle and crystal goblets.

Shondra closed the door and I pressed her against it. We kissed. Our hands cupped each others asses. I slid my fingers up under her skirt, past her stockings and their tops to a nylon panty-girdle. She squeezed her hot thighs together and moaned. We swapped spit. I was breathless, but held the kiss. She rubbed her tits against my mounds. Then I reached inside her top and found the catch on her bra. I popped it open while her shaky fingers undid the buttons on both our blouses. We both gasped as our naked tits met. Hers were bigger than mine and as full, but I didn’t have the benefit of her lift surgery. I could see the small marks of the operation. Her nipples were perched on the top rim; mine, darker and roughened from long ago breast feeding, pointed straight ahead.

I lifted my boobs. She bent her head and took my offered nipple in her mouth. She sucked like a hungry baby. I held her head to my chest and started to hum. While she sucked, I tweaked her nips and felt them harden.

“My god, you’re a hot bitch,” she said, lifting her head, pushing me away gently.

“Damn, yes.” I had to smile. I’m naturally sexually responsive, but there was a fire new to me. I felt radioactive.

“You need a drink, darling.” She took my hand. Led me to the sofa. I stretched out while she opened the bottle, POP, and poured a goblet of frothy bubbly. She dipped her boob in it, the tit flesh barely fit, and then knelt before me. I licked the champagne from her nipple. Then she moved away, pressed the goblet to my lips. I drank and we kissed to share the liquor. Finally the goblet was empty. She poured again and this time it was her turn to lick my tit. The cold champagne made my flesh pucker, her hot tongue made me flush.

“Now,” she sighed as we broke off. She worked my blouse off my shoulders and I tossed it on a nearby chair. Her fingers undid my skirt. I lifted my ass so she could pull it free. My skirt was tossed aside, too.

Shondra knelt in front of me. She stripped off my panties. I was open and ready for her tongue. She buried herself in my cunt. I wailed as my orgasm flooded over me.

Shondra continued to work her lips and her tongue at my slit. Her hunger made me grateful I’d given myself a fresh and careful shave; usually I’m content with a sloppy trim unless it’s summer and swimsuit season.

I’d never felt such a wonderful mouth. I was in endless ecstasy. It was the difference, I thought, between a man and a woman. She knew what a woman wanted. I vowed that when the time came, I’d be as good. That’s when I knew what I needed to do. I sat up straighter, reached down outside my thighs, and cupped her magnificent boobs. I heard, no I felt the woman moan into my cunt. I squeezed gently as she went back to sucking my clitoris. I came again!

Shondra slowly lifted her face from my loins. Her face was smeared with my juices and it was flushed. She smiled.

“I - ,” I gasped, “I love you.”

“Of course you do…” she whispered as I pulled her to me for a long and lingering kiss. There was a combination of my cunt juices and her lipstick that drove me wilder with lust. I licked her lips, kissed her cheeks, even kissed her eyelids as we embraced.

“Sweetheart, let me—“

“Hush.” She put a crimson tipped finger to my lips. “ I know exactly what you want.”

Shondra straightened. She stripped off her top, followed with her bra. She handed the lace cups to me and pressed them to my face. I inhaled her fragrance.

“Now, darling.” She knelt back between my spread thighs, all the while holding her eyes with mine. Her eyes flamed. Her lips smiled. Shondra cupped her large breasts. Slowly, she put both hands around her left breast and caressed it. The blue veins were rivers across the pale flesh. I was spellbound, breathless. She bent forward and pressed her tit against my wet cunt. I gasped as she worked at my slit. Up, down. Back, forth.

“Shondra, sweetheart!”

She fucked my cunt with her tit. I grabbed my thighs and spread them as far as I could. I wanted to open for her entire mound. It was wonderful. I’d never felt anything so sensuous as this golden creature’s tit forced against my sex. We rocked together gasping for breath from our exertions. I came again on her fucking tit. I fell back, exhausted.

“Was it good, Betinna?”

“Goddamn,” was all I could pant. Was it ever! I couldn't remember the last time I'd been his so hard by an orgasm.

“Let me help you.” She freed me from my blouse and skirt. I lay back on the divan. I shone with sweat. I pressed my damp hair back; my new hairdo, so carefully worked over, was a sodden ruin. I couldn’t care less, though. I felt more alive than I had in years. I stretched languidly.

She picked up my discarded panties and sniffed at them. She lingered over their aroma. Shondra looked me up and down. I still wore my garter, stockings, and suede ankle wrap pumps.

“It’s not fair, that I’m naked.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“Be naked for me, love.”

“Yes, darling.” Shondra half turned from me. She bent to remove her shoes. She unfastened the skirt and let it slide down her long legs. Her naked skin was flawless, from her high breasts to her indented navel to her stockinged feet. All she wore was her boy cut body shaper and hose. Slowly she put one foot up, undid her stocking from it's strap, and rolled it down and off her leg. She did the same again. The eroticism of the act made gooseflesh up and down my arms.

She hooked her thumbs in the panty shaper.


“Do you love me?”

“I love you, Shondra.”

She turned away, put her thumbs down and stripped off her nylon garment. Her ass was wonderful, round as her boobs, full. Then she turned and I saw her cock.

“Disappointed?” she asked as I gaped at her, his cock! It sprang up from the constraints of her, his! shaper. His hairless balls hung down. “You won’t be disappointed for long.”

The transvestite dropped between my thighs and his flair-headed shaft was aimed right at my cunt. I was too shocked to try to avoid it. It plunged in. I wasn’t ready for it, despite my wetness. It’s thickness spread me open wide. I should have fought, I should have screamed, but the sudden assault held me silent till the pleasure hit me. I looked between our bodies, past my swollen boobs and his enhanced ones and I saw a thick long cock plunging between my lips. A cock every bit as good, no, better than my husband’s, more than I could hope to dream about. I started to thrust against the she-male. He noticed my sudden willingness and bent his head to kiss me. Our kiss was passionate, exciting. Our thighs slapped together. My hands went to his breasts and I twisted them.

“Arrghhh!” he howled and I felt the sudden flood as he came in me. It wasn’t just reflex as my legs flew around his hips; it was passion, and I pulled him tight against my loins. His cock spasmed in me, time after time. We kissed like new found lovers. He lay atop me and our lips never parted. Slowly, my legs released his hips.


“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Do you hate me?”

“Get off me.”

Slowly, almost timidly, the transvestite got off me. He sat. I sat up, too. I went to my knees between his thighs and kissed his cock. I sucked his cock. I licked his balls. His cock grew hard and I sucked it all the way down my throat. My fist jerked him. He was fully as big as he’d been in my cunt. He tasted of male cock and my cunt. It was a taste I knew so well. I savored it. I put my hands under his hips and levered him up. I let go us his cock and licked his shaved asshole. I drove my tongue against the puckered ring. All the time he was calling my name and begging. The same way I’d begged. I swallowed his cock and grabbed his nuts. Almost immediately, there was a gush of cum and I had to gulp it down. The cum was almost as much as it had been in my cunt. I swallowed it like a starving titty baby.

We finally laid side by side on the low divan, arm in arm. My cheek rested against his boob, his hand toyed with my nipple.

“Do you hate me, darling?”

“Don’t ever think that,” I told him. I rose up on one elbow, looked at his feminine face, and kissed his smudged lips. The kiss was soft and lingering. Then we gazed at each other. Sweat had made a mess of his make up. I knew my make up was ruined, too.

“I’m Shane. I need to clean up and dress.”


Not saying anything else, we got up. He gently washed my face with a cloth he’d taken from a warming steam drawer set into one wall. I watched as he cleansed me. The contrast between the love goddess upper body and Adonis lower was striking. When he cleaned between my legs, I thrilled at his touch, but calmed myself. It took awhile, his cleaning, because I was positively pouring out our mingled juices. My distended labia couldn't hold back any of the flood.

It was the same when I wiped down his loins; he got hard, but we ignored the temptations. Then we dressed. He had trouble fitting his cock between his legs and I laughed at his discomfort.

When we were dressed, I sat him on the edge of the sofa and took his purse. In it, I found all the requirements, eye liner, mascara, foundation, blush, and lipstick. With a damp cloth, I cleaned his face, then wiped it dry. I began painting Shane's face. As my fingers played across his handsome and beautiful face, he watched me closely. He brought his hands up and rested them on my hips. He held me lightly as I took his comb and worked on his hairdo. Finished, I stepped back. He found a mirror and critically inspected my handiwork. Smiling, he nodded.

With my make up, he repaired the damage done to my face by lust. His fingers were much quicker than mine and when he was done, I had to acknowledge his artistry. Shane had done a better and faster job than I had. I told him so.

“Years of practice, darling,” he told me in his throaty whisper.

We sat together and kissed some more. We were almost like naive teenagers when we necked. We touched each others faces, our ears, our necks, but kept our hands from wandering any lower. My breath was harsh when I gently pushed away my lover.

“We need to go.”

“I guess so,” he agreed.

We went down to the club when we were once more lesbian lovers.

At my table, Gina and Akito shared a drink. Alexis sat holding hands with a stocky brunette. When we saw each other, our eyes held guilty secrets. The six of us shared goodnight kisses. Then Jeanna and Alice and I left. They wanted to hear about Shondra and me, but all I admitted was that the two of us had traded telephone numbers.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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