I was 23, just out of culinary school and out of the closet. I fell in love with a woman and we were together for six glorious months until I found out she was cheating on me. This heartbreak motivated my move back to Cincinnati where to my surprise things had changed quite a bit in the five years or so I’d been gone. The nightlife was great, the local music scene inspiring, new art galleries were opening all over the place. Not much for lesbians it's true but I was doing the online dating thing and met some cool girls as well as the requisite kooks. I was free and independent and could feel myself becoming the woman I wanted to be. It felt good.
I soon got a job as a sous chef at a high-end place on the Banks development right next to the Reds stadium. I was passionate about food then. The business hadn’t taken its toll on me yet. My boss, the executive chef, really took me under his wing. If our owner decided to expand into new markets and I did my job well, I might hope to be in charge of my own place in a year or two. The dream was to eventually own and run my own spot. But one foot in front of the other, first things first.
I started making friends and soon had a busy social life going. A chefs' schedule is always hectic and crazy. Maybe that's why so many of us get into drugs and alcohol. You tend to need a lot of stress relief. I tend to stick to booze and weed but if someone offered me an E or shrooms I wouldn’t say no.
Probably my closest friend there was a bartender named Sara. She was a beautiful shapely strawberry blonde, my age and newly married. Her husband Gary was one of our floor managers, a really friendly, down-to-earth sort of guy. They were outgoing and I started hanging out with them and their friends quite a bit. Like me they were really into indie-rock so we were always going to MOTR, Northside Tavern, Mayday...seeing cool new bands and of course getting fucked up. We were heavy partiers. I would come to work early, do my invoices, make out the prep list, call in orders and maybe work on the daily special or the soup du jour, feeling like I’d been cleaned out on the inside with bleach and a scouring pad. Dying to sleep but pushing through. As a female chef with mostly male staff I couldn’t let those boys see any weakness. I had to be a warrior.
Our food was good. Reviews were positive in the local press. People were coming in the door. My owner and my chef were pleased. We were making money.
As I said, our place sits right next to Great American Ball Park, so game days were always busy for us. We had glass partition walls separating the inner dining room from our seating outside. We would lift those walls, opening us up to the outside on nice days. All the servers would get to wear their casual baseball gear. We’d take large coolers filled with ice and beer and sell to the passers by, enticing them to stop in for sushi or a burger. This was when the straight boys and I really got to see some girl candy. We had several hotties among our serving staff and they all knew that looking good for the drunken sports fans meant big tips. Sara always wore her little Reds t-shirt with her push-up bra, her breasts bulging from it. It was hard not to stare. She would wear jeans that seemed painted on, like three sizes too small. It was the same with her skirts when she worked the host desk. Her ass was delicious, round, and full, perfect in fact. She was so sweet too.
I could hardly even allow myself to fantasize about Sara though, thats how straight she was. Like straight straight...ex-cheerleader, boy crazy, super femme. Even if she wasn’t attached I could never imagine her being interested in me. Maybe if Gary wanted a threesome she might kiss me a little but ick no, not my scene.
I’ve been told I’m beautiful, not to make too big a deal of it, but I’m raven-haired, dark-eyed and pale-skinned. I stay in shape. I’ve got a nice body. I was getting asked out a lot by men, both guests and staff and since I don’t lie about who I am, directly or by omission, word got out soon enough.
Now dating co-workers is always dangerous. It can bring a lot of drama and awkwardness into your life, especially with young girls who want to “experiment.” All gay women know the awful feeling of losing your heart to someone who isn’t serious or who isn’t comfortable with her sexuality. So with these hotties at work who loved to “party” I was resolved to be very circumspect.
We made plans, Sara, Gary and I to see a friend of his from out of town, a famous hypnotist. An entertainer, not a hypno-therapist. He’d worked in carnivals and freak shows but did gigs at comedy clubs, bars or wherever he could get people interested. He was going to be in town Saturday night to play the Rhumba Room, one of our preferred hangouts. None of their other friends could go or wanted to. They twisted my arm and I agreed to tag along.
We got pizza and beer at a little gourmet bistro in Over-the-Rhine then walked the two blocks to the club. Franco the Magnificent. One night only. People were out. Nice looking girls everywhere and I was getting some second looks. I recently had my hair cut Miley/pixie style partly because it's just a cute cut but also because being single and femme I was tired of girls mistaking me for straight. I was even mixing in rainbow jewelry just to make sure I got the point across.
We paid at the door and entered the dark, noisy and crowded club. We took a table. A gorgeous Asian girl took our drink orders. I decided on gin and tonic as my poison for the night. The happy couple took shots of whiskey chased with beer. I looked around the room. A mixed crowd, college kids, yuppies, older academic types and a few rockers.
The lights dimmed. Some shouts and applause. A great disc of light illuminated the stage. Franco the Magnificent, plumber of the depths of the human heart, seeker of the minds' darkest, most hidden desires, came on stage. He was blonde, well-groomed, meticulously shaven. A born performer, he moved his arms in great theatrical gestures like a mime. He could throw his voice like a ventriloquist, aiming it like a missile across the crowded room. I didn’t believe for an instant he could really hypnotize people. I assumed there were a few plants in the audience who would act out for us, all in good fun.
He used one of those spinners and spoke to his victims in a soothing voice, even massaging the temples of a particular gentleman, to put them into trance. It was impressive.
The first man to go up was made to do animal noises. He barked, meowed, cock-a-doodle-dooed and oinked while his friends clapped and laughed. His wife sat there beet-red almost doubled over. The second was a middle-aged woman whom Franco first convinced was a very elderly man. She limped across the stage, holding her hip, speaking in an imitation of the gruff quaver of a male senior citizen. Next he told her she was Robert Plant and she began to belt out Stairway to Heaven in an off-key falsetto. It was hilarious. The drinks were flowing fast and the whole audience was having a great time.
Afterwards Franco came to our table. He was popular and even signed a few autographs. He and Gary embraced and Sara and I were introduced. He was charismatic and strange. His steely blue eyes kept a fixed and penetrating expression. It made me shy. One almost wished to draw a curtain over one’s face lest he peer too deep.
The four of us took a cab back to Gary and Sara’s place, stopping for beer on the way. Sara put her Pandora station on while Gary broke up weed on the sleeve of a Ramones LP, preparatory to rolling a fattie. Franco was the sober raconteur, telling us about his travels and adventures. He took himself very seriously, considering his hypnotism to be a form of high art. We passed the blunt.
Gary had overdone it. His eyes were red and swollen and he started to nod off. Sara left Franco and I alone for a few minutes while she helped him prepare for bed. I was going to sleep in the guest room and Franco on the living room couch.
I was feeling mischievous and decided to deflate the Magnificent Franco somewhat.
“I see through you you know?” I asked, dragging deep, coughing and passing.
His eyes grew wide and he smiled slightly. “What does that mean?” He took the blunt but ignored it and it burned in his hand.
“Those people were plants. You put them there. There is no way that silly spinner thing could put people that deep in trance. I don’t believe it.”
“Ah I see...a challenge….how can I prove it to you? Shall I hypnotize you? Right now? We’d best wait for Sara to get back before I make you oink like a pig. She can record it on her phone and you’ll have your proof.”
“No. Do her. Sara is no actress. If you manage to hypnotize her, I’ll believe it. If she agrees of course.”
“Very well. What shall we make her do? What thoughts shall we place in her head? Or rather what secret desire of hers shall we bring into the light of day?”
Looking back I am inclined to think that Franco knew what I wanted and led me there with that phrase. Please remember I was not only skeptical but very drunk. It was as a joke that I leaned across and whispered in his ear, “I want you to turn her into a lesbian.” I chortled, delighted at having given him a challenge as naughty as it was impossible. He leaned back, his face beaming self-satisfaction. “Done.”
Soon Sara sat in a chair directly opposite Franco. I sat a little farther apart out of sight so as not to disturb their concentration. He had an old-fashioned pocket watch on a chain. He moved it like a pendulum in front of her face, telling her in soft words that her body was relaxing, that her mind was becoming open, that all of her inhibitions were dissolving and she was becoming sleepy. Her eyes closed.
He asked basic things of her, her name, the name of her husband, where she worked, where she lived, where she had gone to school. He made her speak of her childhood memories, her dreams, her first loves.
And then he slowly began to introduce the subject of women. Hadn't she noticed how much prettier women were than men, how much softer, how much nicer, how they smelled? He asked Sara if she did not agree. She did agree. He mentioned me. Hadn't she noticed how pretty her friend Audrey is? How nicely shaped, how pretty her eyes and smile and hair are? She said yes, she had noticed these things. My heart was pounding and I began to be vaguely ashamed as well as terribly excited. I could not tell whether these thoughts were being sown into her consciousness from without or rather excavated from the deepest layers of her mind. I wanted to interrupt, to tell him to stop because clearly Sara was hypnotized and he had proven his point but I stayed silent and listened while Sara's warm voice talked gently of how she admired my beauty and had dreamed of belonging to me.
Before snapping her out of it at the count of ten he placed a trigger word in her mind. He stole a glance at me as he pronounced it to her and made her repeat it: Esmeralda. The next time she heard that name she would be reminded of her feelings for women. They would dominate her. They would come over her so strongly she would be unable to control her own passions. Had I gone too far? I thought it was a joke. I did not want to break up the marriage of my two friends. Sara came to. She seemed not to remember that she had agreed to be hypnotized and we all went to sleep, neither of us reminding her.
The next day I was very troubled. Could I possibly trust myself alone with Sara now? When all I had to do was say that silly word?
I met a girl online, really cute and smart. We were into each other pretty deep for a few weeks so it was easy for me to avoid Sara and her husband. Eventually we drifted apart though and I found myself feeling lonely again. Sara had been texting me furiously over the last few weeks, trying to get me to hang out with her. I could tell she was hurt and wondering what she could've done wrong.
A mutual friend at the restaurant was having a going away get together at the Arsenic Club before she moved away to go to college out of state. I had nothing to do and no excuse to make so I went. Most of my work friends were there as were Sara and Gary. At the time this was probably the wildest night club in Cincy. If you couldn't hook up there you were truly hopeless. Not exactly a gay club but close to it. All the kinky and fetishy types went there.
The music pulsed as hollow-eyed pleasure seekers wandered about. The smell of clove cigarettes hung in the air as I watched the dancers swaying to the heavy rhythms. Many men and a few women let their eyes linger over me but I kept to myself. I didn't want to lose control and end up in some strangers’ bed. I set myself a three drink limit after which I should still be sober enough to drive home. I was just observing, people-watching as I love to do sometimes, when Sara tugged at my elbow, smiling. We had to shout our greetings in one anothers ears.
She had dyed her hair a deep red. Her pouty lips were of the same fire-engine hue. She wore a slinky pale pink body dress. Every curve richly accentuated. I told her she looked gorgeous.
"Thanks, so do you."
I was rocking boy clothes: jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket and a newsboy cap. But I also wore my smoky eye-shadow and my lashes were painted, long, delicate and flirty.
We moved out to the patio so we could hear each other talk. I could see Gary at the other end, oblivious to us, talking with his friends.
"Where have you been? Are you mad at me?"
"No it's just work and Abby was taking up a lot of my time. But that's over. She went back to her boyfriend."
"Aww I'm so sorry, I know you really liked her." She hugged me again. This time we held each other for a few moments. Her hair smelled like strawberries.
"Anyway you're not the only one having relationship trouble. "
"Something wrong with you two?"
"Yes..No...I don't know. It's something I can't put my finger on. I don't know if he's changed or I have but something is just off now. I don't feel the same, I feel...."
She trailed off, looking at the dancers inside. The song changed.
"Ooohh, this is my jam! Lets dance!" She took my hand, leading me to the dance floor.
A few guys made their little attempts to engage us, gyrating or shuffling pathetically near but I got close to Sara and danced with her. She giggled playfully but stayed there with me. I let my hands roam over her sides lightly, wondering if she would pull away. She didn't. I turned my back to her, doing a little twerk, rolling my hips, letting my butt grind against her. I felt her hands on me, her hips pushing and reciprocating. I saw a group of our friends looking at us, pointing and talking. I did not see Gary. I didn't care. I turned to her, put my arms around her neck, smiled as I gazed into her eyes and then said softly in her ear, "Esmeralda".
"What?" she shouted over the music.
"Nothing!" I yelled back.
She took my hand. "Let's get out of here!"
We dove into the first cab we saw. I barely spoke my address before Sara's hot mouth closed over mine. She was on top of me, her limbs folded around me. I opened an eye and saw the cabbies' startled but very interested gaze in the rear-view. I hoped he'd be able to pay attention to the road. I've never been kissed like that. Our tongues mingling, hardly able to breathe, and the grit of her lipstick crunching like sand in my teeth.
Somehow I paid the driver and we got inside. I pushed her to the wall, throwing my jacket to the ground. She dropped her purse as I flipped her around and smacked her ass. I hiked up her skirt revealing a sheer pink thong. I dropped to my knees, spreading her, pushing my face into her crotch, sucking her pussy lips through the thin lace barrier.
Lust shot through us, determining our movements with the instinctive assurance of animals.
I peeled her panties down, relishing the way they slid down her soft ivory thighs, loving the sight of her ripe melon of an ass. I couldn't help myself. I stiffened my tongue and dove between her butt cheeks. She squirmed and shouted. I stood up, pulling off my shirt. She kissed me hard on the mouth again. I helped her off with her dress. Unwilling to pause, I kept our momentum going towards my bedroom. We made our way there in a rolling movement along the walls, each of us regaining then losing the upper hand in delicious power-play.
I unfastened my bra, revealing to her my full, heavy tits as I pulled her into my bedroom.
I could hear both of our cell phones going off in the hallway where our purses and clothes lay strewn. Sara removed her bra, her lovely b cups dotted with a few tiny moles. Her body writhed in anticipation over my silk sheets. My eyes locked on to her beautiful swollen pussy with its triangle of blondish hair. I didn't stand on ceremony. I was eager to be her first, to show her how women love and to drive this experience myself. I made her hold her legs all the way back, her elbows holding her by the pits of her knees. Her treasure was open to me. I kissed it, savoring the fragrance of her desire. My tongue parted her wet lips, licking long and deep, her savory juices oozing onto my face, lingering under her hood, circling her clitty before sucking it into my mouth. Her body shook. She cried out, oohing and cooing and begging me not to stop. I moved my face around in her, then wiped her hot dampness with one breast then another, taking my hard nipple and moving it around the rim of her pussy. My face and breasts glistening wet now.
I raised her butt in the air, her weight resting on her neck and shoulders, my arm circling her thigh. She was completely open for me. I gave in fully to my desire, letting my tongue play over her rim, two fingers pushing into her cunt. At the mercy of pleasure, she looked up at me, eyes aflame in total submission. My tongue explored her anus, licking it deep, my eyes rolling in their sockets as I lost control, fingers twisting and turning in her, coaxing her G. My own sex was on fire. I lowered her, keeping her spread, and straddled. She gasped as she watched our centers unite, our lips lightly kissing at first. I shuddered with pleasure as she gripped me close, our hips finding a rhythm together, bucking and rolling. I glid in a long trail from inner thigh over hot lips to inner thigh. She pushed herself into me. I was sweating, my clit grinding over hers. Her body quaked and she squealed as I felt my body tense and then release.
I collapsed next to her, arms folded around each other, spooning and kissing, softly and gently. I stroked her hair while she caressed my thigh, my wetness pressed to her ass. It was so intimate. I felt I could fall for this girl but I had to be honest with her first. I told her about the night when Franco and I stayed over and about “Esmeralda.” She looked thoughtfully at me but only smiled and kissed me more.
“I don’t care. I love you Audrey. I belong to you. I never want to leave your arms. This is what my heart has always ached for, ever since we met.”
I watched a smile spread over her face as I removed a special item from my bedside drawer: my black strappy. I fastened it on and re-positioned myself at the same intimate place just behind her. I reached around stroking her clit while my hard girlcock teased her perineum and massaged her lips. Still so wet, the head pressed to her opening, she spread for me and guided me in. I felt the resistance give sweetly away as her walls stretched to admit me, the little nubby worrying my clit as I worked my hips, entering her slowly. As she took me deeper and deeper, she swooned in my arms, my hips slapping her soft round butt as I fucked her. One hand playing with her anus, the other rubbing her clitty as she held the pillow, crying into it. She came in my arms, again and again and again….I kissed her neck, my erect nipples pressing to her back.
We spent the entire day in my bed, ceasing our lovemaking only for the sake of food, restroom breaks and the discussion of future plans, of our life together.
The next morning I drove her to their place so she could pick up some clothes and other essentials. Gary was upset but what could he say?
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