Latest Forum Posts:


She was looking at me

Finding out what I wanted

The bar I had been told about, my friend said it was where butch women go to find lipstick.

‘They are not all nice,’ she had warned but didn’t elaborate.

I’d ordered a gin and tonic from the dyke behind the counter. She eyed me up and down, served my drink without comment and took my money. The bar was busy. A lot of women, some, like me in dresses, some in jeans, some in good suits, man style. The whole gamut. She was tall. I like them tall. Her hair was cut short but not manly. Elfin was a word that sprang to mind. I could only see her to the waist because she was leaning against the bar and I was watching her in the mirror behind the drinks. I saw a hint of the shape of her breasts when she moved and her pale blue linen jacket opened slightly. Standing next to her was a woman in a leather jacket who looked very butch, very manly.

The toilet was in the opposite direction from where she stood. I picked up my bag and went to it. I didn’t need a pee, I just needed to think, but when I got there I went into a cubicle and sat, knickers around my ankles and pissed anyway. I think better on the seat.

Resolved, I went back to the bar to find that she had moved and was now sitting on the stool next to mine. I sat without looking at her and picked up my drink.

‘My friend liked the look of you.’

I turned slowly towards her. This was my ‘take my time’ move.

‘I’m Katherine,’ I said.

‘Fine. She said she thought you were looking for something.’

‘Isn’t that the nature of life?’

I looked down as I hung my bag from the hook in front of me and saw she was wearing leather trousers, tight and shiny and dark blue. I couldn’t see her shoes until she half turned, swiveling the stool, and I saw ankle boots, black and glossy with tiny buckles at the outside. As I looked up I noticed her jacket was pushed back and I could see the faint shadow of a nipple under the white fabric of her button down.

Her hand reached out and she touched my skirt where it went over my knee.

‘Most of the femmes who come in here are looking for something. Mostly, they make more of an effort to show what it is.’

‘Not everyone knows what she’s looking for.’

‘Let me know when you work it out.’ She left then. She just stood up, said nothing and went. I followed her back as she walked through the bar, all the way to the door. Not once did she look back.

That was the Friday night. On Saturday I went back, earlier than the night before. The same dyke served me a g and t without asking what I wanted. I sat at the same stool. The bar was quieter. The dyke handed me a note. I looked at her questioningly but she just shrugged and moved away. Service with a shrug, I thought.

“Katherine. Untie your hair when you see me.’

My hair was long then, tied back loosely and chestnut. It reached almost to my arse. I was wearing a dress, red with a black patent belt, buttons from neck to waist and red shoes. My stockings were tan. I didn’t see her come in. I was suddenly aware of her at the far end of the bar, a different jacket, short cut and yellow. I didn’t even know if the note was from her. I untied my hair and shook it loose.

I was startled when a small group of musicians clattered onto a stage behind me and I turned to watch them as they set up and thus missed her moving to the stool beside me, not noticing until I turned back.

‘Red suits you better.’

‘Yellow looks good on you.’

‘Let’s go to a table.’

I followed her across towards the toilet but she changed direction to a part of the bar I had not noticed before and I sat at a table, facing her. Her trousers were dark green leather this time but with the same boots. She opened her yellow jacket and I saw her breasts clearly through what looked like a body stocking. They were larger than I had thought and her nipples were dark.

‘Your hair looks better loose too.’

‘Thank you.’

The music started and she leaned forward to speak. I could smell her, a mix of lemon and peppermint.

‘My friend really liked the look of you.’

‘’But it’s you I am sitting with.’

‘She’s shy.’

‘She’s not here.’

Are we, I asked myself, going to exchange sentences all evening.

‘She’s at home. We share,’ a pause, ‘everything.’

‘I don’t even know your name.’

She stood up, looked at me then walked to the bar. She came back with two glasses and placed a g and t in front of me.

‘Does it matter? If you knew my name would you know you’d be safe?’

‘Would I be safe?’

I leant back and drank my gin, slowly, looking at her.

She reached out and took the empty glass from my hand. She placed it on the table then looked straight into my eyes.

‘Only one way to find out.’

She stood again and looked at me as if to say, 'well, are you coming or not.' I stood and she turned and I followed her, watching her sharp heels as they clicked on the stone floor. I watched as her arse swayed, tight in the green leather.

She hailed a cab and it stopped. They never do that for me. She gave an address, not far away. She took my hand and held it.

The block was modern and expensive. We rode a lift to the 18th floor. I followed her down a carpeted corridor and she opened the door and stood back to let me through. I wanted to follow, not lead, but I went in. The hall was lit softly. I could hear soft music and could smell good food.

When I turned she was taking off her jacket.

‘She came.’ She said this loudly, sort of talking past me.

I turned and saw a woman, not the butch she’d been with on Friday, or at least not the one I thought she’d been with. This woman was as tall as her but wearing a dress with a low cut V neck and tiny thin straps. It was tight to the waist and long, to the floor, darkest red. Her short blonde hair framed her well made up face. Blue eyes sparkled in the soft light.

‘Come in, Katherine. Don’t mind Georgie, she is a woman of few words but she means well. Gin and tonic, I think? I’m Lorna.’

I turned to follow Lorna, hearing Georgie following me. In a sitting room with deep leather chairs, soft light and the soothing music, Lorna handed me a glass. She came closer and pushed my hair back behind my ears, a surprisingly intimate gesture. I felt hands on my hips from behind me.

Lorna said, ‘She told you we share everything?’ I nodded. ‘You happy with this?’ I smiled and nodded again. She took the glass from my hand, placed it on a nearby table then started undoing my dress buttons. My small breasts were exposed. She traced them with her fingertips, her nails lightly scratching. The hands on my hips slid down over my thighs and I felt the dress being lifted. Lorna undid my belt and cast it aside. Together they lifted the dress over my head and Lorna threw that aside too.

I heard Georgie say, ‘I brought her for you.’

‘You did very well, darling. Now go to bed.’ She looked into my eyes. ‘We share when I decide to. Come and sit with me.’

She dressed, I naked but for my stockings and knickers, sat. We were both in deep leather armchairs facing each other.

‘Do you prefer me like this or like the butch she was with yesterday?’

‘That was you?’

‘I do not like to be one person. Tonight I am feminine and I may be tomorrow, or in an hour I may be a dyke again.’ She sipped from a long-stemmed glass. ‘Sometimes, I am both.’ To my astonishment she placed her hand to her crotch and squeezed the dress to reveal the unmistakable shape of a dildo. ‘I am always a woman though.’

‘Why did you send her to bed?’

‘Because I am going to fuck you first, then we both will.’

In view of my state of undress it seemed ridiculous to ask her how she knew I would allow that. So, instead of asking, I took a drink from my glass and looked into her eyes. I watched as slowly she pulled the hem of her dress up over long, shapely legs and exposed the strapless dildo which she stroked lewdly. Her eyes seemed to penetrate me. She stood, her dress hanging from the dildo and looked at me, her eyes sending a clear message. I knew, absolutely knew what to do. I slipped my knickers down and lifted my knees onto the arm of the chair. She smiled as I stroked my pussy, spreading my lips, circling my clit which was probably peeping from under her hood.

My breath was short. The soft light, the image before me, the way I had been brought here, all those things conspired to make me feel wanton, which was precisely why I had gone to the bar in the first place. She came closer.

‘Say please.’

I could barely speak, but managed hoarsely to say, ‘Please.’

‘Please what?’

‘Please fuck me.’

She did not smile. She simply moved closer and touched the tip of her dildo to me. She pushed her hips slowly forward and I felt the pressure, then the intrusion, and then the deep invasion. She rested her hands on my shoulders and began to rock her hips, slowly at first then with increasing viguour. I couldn’t take my eyes from hers. This was what I had wanted and needed and here it was. I hadn’t known precisely what I wanted. I remembered saying, ‘Not everyone knows what she wants,’ to Georgie.

As if she had read my mind, she said, ‘Now you know what it was that you wanted.’

She came then, suddenly and with no apparent build up she just erupted and groaned a sort of guttural groan. It was the sexiest noise I had ever heard. It spewed from her. She didn’t slow for several seconds but gradually, as she came down, she slowed and then withdrew, leaving me wanting more.

I whispered, ‘Oh, God, please more.’

She smiled then. ‘Let’s find Georgie.’

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.

To link to this sex story from your site - please use the following code:

<a href="">She was looking at me</a>

Comments (10)

Tell us why

Please tell us why you think this story should be removed.