At Home with Melody Part Two

Note : This story is completely fictional!

Chapter Five

Meanwhile, two blocks from Melody’s massive home, having woken after a reoccurring nightmare, Travis turned his bedside light on. He lived in a less affluent street, in a small, somewhat rundown two-storey house. His attic room was barely big enough to contain a single bed, scant furniture, an old computer, and a small TV. What he did enjoy, however, as much as Melody, was privacy. He had only one parent—his mother—and she seldom ever bothered him once he had entered his own domain. For this reason, and at such a late hour, he felt quite safe in retrieving several pornographic magazines from under his mattress. However, although his response to the explicit photos was immediate, he was still not satisfied.
With his young cock gently bobbing through the open fly of his pajama shorts, he rose from his bed and went to his small sliding cupboard. From the top shelf he retrieved something other than adult material. It was last year’s college yearbook.
So often had he looked at Melody’s picture that it was as though the book knew exactly where to open.
While kneeling on the bed, with pornography still present, he gazed upon that perfect face, and believed he could actually see the quiet sorrow hidden behind those beautiful brown eyes. He had never thought of her lustfully before. That was, in his mind, a sin. Laid out before him, was his sad goddess, not some stow-away sex object.
But this time his dick had its own mind. Glancing to one side, a hardcore magazine was still open in the middle, a beautiful African American woman had her dark fingers buried in her very pink pussy; the contrast with Melody’s fair complexion was somewhat of a turn-on.
His dick tingled with urgency.
A hand went to it.
Melody, so sweet, so innocent, was it true that she was still a virgin, just like he was? With her looks, and at twenty, it seemed so unlikely? But not everyone was like April, and Melody was a goddess—beyond mere mortals—she would not simply waste herself on oversexed college jocks.
He glanced again at the beautiful black lady. A picture showed her spreading her pretty pussy with long fingers. She had painted her fingernails pink, and for some inexplicable reason, Travis found this added touch, erotic.
Back to Melody.
His fist began to slowly pull on his erection.
Madonna’s song, ‘like a virgin’, came to mind, he had seen the infamous ‘In Bed with Madonna’ tape recently, and could vividly remember the provocative stage performance that had accompanied the song.
He closed his eyes.
Melody on stage, no longer the goddess, but rather a seductive sex kitten; Melody with her long smooth legs; with her firm breasts, with flowing hair as wild as her eyes, Melody naked on a large bed, fingers thrusting in and out, wildly masturbating her perfect pussy .
He opened his eyes and glanced away from the yearbook to that beautiful black and pink cunt.
What was Melody’s pussy like? Did she have big pussy lips that could be spread like curtains, or were they more discreet? Did she shave beyond just her bikini line? Did she shave completely? He liked pictures of young shaved cunts. Was it pink or dark or pale? And most of all, did she masturbate? The thought of her shoving her long fingers deep inside herself, rubbing her clit with pussy juices, sent Travis into a spin.
What would his cock feel like sliding in and out of her pretty princess pussy?
And, as he jerked his cock, he pursed his lips and blew so softly his breath would not have extinguished a candle, rising tension putting paid to any feelings of guilt associated with thinking such things about his goddess.
When he came, rather than the yearbook, he had time to turn and splatter hot cum all over the pornographic magazines.
Guilt followed like a thundercloud.
Using toilet paper, while quickly cleaning up, stowing away, and spraying the room with deodorant, he promised himself he would never again think of Melody in this way.
He would fail.
Dismally.

Chapter Six

Melody rang April the next morning, but was greeted with an engaged tone. She tried twice more, only to be met with the same result. It was about eleven, and no matter how late she had returned home, her friend should at least be awake by now. Maybe the phone was accidentally left off the hook.
She went to visit. 
April’s mother opened the door, and said that her daughter had only just left for the mall. Both thought it strange that she had not phoned. Melody and April usually shopped together. Further inquiries revealed that April had arrived home around three in the morning—an hour April’s mother did not approve of. Perhaps that was why April sought to be alone…to escape her mother’s wrath.
At least she was safe, Melody thought, as she entered the massive shopping centre. However, when she found her friend at the ice creamery, she was not so sure. 
What followed was the most evasive conversation Melody could remember ever sharing with April.
All weekend it was like this. Worse was April’s mood. Not only did she only play with her ice cream, and speak far less than usual; she gave far too many hints that she wanted to be left alone. Melody seriously worried about what she had done by leaving her friend alone with Clayton. Yet, when mentioned, shrugging her shoulders, April continued to be elusive.

On Monday, at college, having given up looking for April, Melody spotted Travis near her locker. He did not see her. She watched from a distance. He was doing something with her lock, then was gone.
When she approached, she found a small pouch dangling. In the pouch were a fine, gold bracelet, and a note. The note read, “I am sorry if I have offended you in any way. It was never my intention to do so.” It was not signed.
Melody held up the bracelet. It was beautiful. But what a strange thing to do, and how did he think he might have offended her? By spying and being caught by April, perhaps? But then why not sign it? Did he really think they did not know who he was—that he could remain anonymous?
Instead of putting it on, she stowed it in a pocket.
She was about to enter her first class of the day when Clayton pulled up. As he did, he said, “seen April about?” Melody was so taken aback, she didn’t know how to answer. “April.” He reiterated. “Have you seen her? Is she okay?”
“I…why shouldn’t she be okay?”
“Nothing. No reason.” He shrugged off the comment. “She knows how to have a good time.” His grin a little strained. “Pity her friends are not so forthcoming.”
“What happened?”
However, Clayton was already moving away, leaving her to contemplate what ‘nothing’, might mean. She fingered the bracelet in her pocket, and what should I make of this?
By lunchtime, Melody was truly worried. She used her mobile to ring. April was home in bed. Bad headache day, she didn’t want to talk.
The last class of the day was drama. Melody was on stage rehearsing her lines with another girl when the play’s director called a halt. “Raylene, dear, you’re concentrating so hard on remembering your lines you’re forgetting to feel the part,” said the female director. She was thirty-something, always seemed to have masses of wayward hair, and dressed very much like a flamboyant art student. The class loved her animation. Melody thought her inspirational. “I’d rather you forgot a few lines and actually became the character.” She used her hands to express a need for greater depths of emotion. “Mel is suicidal. She’s just lost her greatest love. Please, dearest, try again, and lets see some real emotion.”
They tried again, but still the big-breasted, somewhat stocky, redheaded Raylene, fell short of expectations. “You two look beautiful up there,” said the teacher. “This will be our best performance yet, but we’re going to have to work at it a little harder if we’re to be truly ready in time. We’ll give it one more go, okay. Sorry, but I think we can still do a little better.” Then one of her sudden inspirations, “No wait, I have an idea. Take a break for a while.” As she went to leave she dismissed the rest of the class. “Thanks for your efforts. You were all quite fantastic.” And she threw her arms in the air to accentuate how fantastic.
Although Melody seldom minded how often their drama class went over time. Today, consumed by thoughts of April, she was actually in the middle of constructing an excuse for at least leaving on the bell, when the director returned.
Reentering the hall, immediately behind the director, was Travis. He had his violin case.
“Okay then.” The director began. “Travis here is going to play the scene while you perform.” She had stolen him from his last class of the day.
Completely taken aback, Melody forgot her reasons for leaving, and was unable to prevent her teacher continuing, “from page twenty, beginning with you, Mel.” To Travis, “thank you.” And nervously, he withdrew his violin and began to play. Before Melody had even begun, he hit a sour note. The teacher turned. “Unlike you Travis.” She had noted his talent on more than one occasion, and looked a little surprised by the poor start. “Sorry,” said Travis, unable to look up, in fear of catching Melody’s eye.
He started again. This time it was perfect, and playing with such feeling soon transported Melody beyond time and space, to a realm of sorrow. Her words then wept, and Raylene found her character too; and as they played the stage, it was as though all of life had been condensed into this one moment.
It was not until the director, with a tear in her eye, clapped enthusiastically, that Melody realized they had reached the end of the scene.
“Exquisite. Absolute perfection.” And the teacher clasped her hands together in front of her face. “Watch out Broadway…Watch out Hollywood. My baby’s are a coming.” To Travis, “and you keep playing like that young man and you’ll have orchestras begging you to join them.” She clapped her hands again. “Enough for today.” As Melody and Raylene came from the stage, after placing an arm around their shoulders, the teacher reiterated, “really well done…Now why don’t one of you young ladies escort this handsome man back to his class, and if Mr. Battan is still there, please apologize for me. They were in the middle of their own rehearsals I’m afraid.”
“Its okay,” said Travis who was already moving off. “The class is already finished. I won’t need to go back.”
“You don’t want one of these lovely ladies to accompany you?” She smiled wryly. However, rather than answer, he simply avoided further eye contact, before speeding away. “He’s like a scared little mouse,” she said, adoringly.
Raylene returned with a chuckle, “our Mel tends to scare off the boys.”
“I can’t really imagine that. Melody Evans scaring off boys! She’s gorgeous…They must be mad.”
“Don’t look at me,” Raylene added, “I think she is too.” She looked briefly at Mel, and grinned. “And when she’s in Hollywood, they’ll regret they didn’t get to know her a little better.”
“Stop it Rayls,” said Melody. “You’re the one who was fabulous just then. All I was doing was following your lead.”
“You were both fabulous.” Their teacher started to move them toward the hall door, “now go home. And be young. And laugh a lot.”
“No matter how much I practice my lines I’ll never have Mel’s million dollar looks.”
“You always have to have the last word,” said the teacher to Raylene. “Just remember, there are as many parts as there are looks.” A remark she often made when a student complained about their appearance. Another was, ‘all looks are individual, and individuals are whom directors hire.’ She often had trouble with female students who would not stop comparing themselves to girls like Melody.
In the corridor, “if you ever want to practice your lines, I’m free most nights,” Raylene spoke to Melody, while standing a little too close.
“Maybe later, when we’re closer to opening night,” was all Melody could think to say. She never quite felt comfortable around Raylene, not that the girl made any obvious passes.
“Okay, but I’ll be waiting. We really need to practice this as much as we can. It’s not long now.”
What was that wink supposed to mean? Had she simply been ignoring the inference behind many of Raylene’s actions? 
All was quiet when Melody arrived home. Her mother worked part-time at the Evan’s law firm and was often not home during the afternoon.

Chapter Seven

As for her father, he was the chairperson of the long standing family business; and although small, the clientele were the well-paying rich, ever looking for so-called ‘legal’ loopholes to protect their millions.
The position of chairperson would generally require a lot of responsibility and dedication; however, this was not the situation at Evans’s. Tom’s father had set-up the company, and before he had handed it over—a year before his death—he had ensured that the firm’s four other partners could do the job of eight. All of them were talented, consumed by wealth, and willing to protect the source of that wealth at any physical expense.
Because Tom was not the dedicated lawyer his other partners were, he often found time for play. This allowed him to frequent five different leisure clubs. These included a gym; Summerville’s more exclusive golf club, Rynfern; a yacht club; a spasmodically visited tennis club and a further nameless social league.
Over the years, much fun had been enjoyed in all of these recreational facilities; however, clubs were not Tom Evans’ only idea of fun.
He followed the stock market, loved to watch sports, and delved in Real Estate. Some of his Real Estate ventures were not even known by his wife, the most significant being a three-storey building, which was out-of-town.
Summerville had more than a quarter of a million residents, so it was hardly a town, but a town is what the locals referred to it as.
Considered out-of-town, yet so close it almost married with the outskirts of Summerville, were the beginnings of another major center that, as you traveled through, grew to more than twice the size of Summerville. Also were other large townships and wealthy homesteads that dotted a very fertile farming region, before melding into even larger cities beyond.
More than sixty percent of Evans’s clients came from out-of-towners. Amongst these, was ‘Mr. Jones’, as he called himself (not a real name). He was one of the firm’s most affluent businesspersons, and one of the most dubious. The firm had saved him millions over the years. However, last year, for reasons too unethical for any of the partners to want to pursue, while successfully avoiding a jail term, he had found it difficult to pay up his debts.
This had led to the oddest arrangement, and one that the other partners knew nothing about. ‘He’ll do good next year,” Tom had argued to the board, “not as though we haven’t overcharged him in the past.” Although disgruntled, knowing the account was potentially worth millions, the board had eventually accepted the fact that Mr. Jones had largely avoided the previous year’s extravagant fees.
However, these were greatly distorted facts.
Mr. Jones had simply preyed on Tom Evans’ interest in Real Estate; especially lucrative, ‘out-of-town’ properties. And by way of paying his legal fees—fees that the firm’s board did not know the full extent of—had offered Tom the three-storey building.
However, this is not where the story ends, for Mr. Jones was actually using what was initially a rundown building in a surprisingly elite area, as a small-time but relatively clean, brothel.
It had taken less than a breath for Tom to recover from this discovery, and less time than that to seize on the potential beyond mere property investment.
He would pour more than four hundred thousand dollars of his own money in, to convert the establishment from small-time, to a high-class, well sought after, brothel; where the attractive working girls, would bring a smile to the face of the even the most fastidious of clientele.
And these were not simply dolled up, two-bit, drug addicts, feeding their habits. They were highly professional, well groomed, and clothed to look more like sophisticated ladies of high society than tarts.
There was even a small male service, where several very fit and attractive young men, were hired to discretely satisfy the cravings of, in general, rich bored housewives. This usually involved house calls, rather than the women visiting the establishment.
All those working in the Wishing Well were provided with dental and health plans, along with an in-house gym. And above all else, many lived on the premises, making it—at least on paper—a housing venture, rather than a place of business.
What’s more, there were no losers in this deal. For indeed, even though the ‘tenants’ knew otherwise, at least by the clientele, Tom Evans did not want to be seen as the majority owner that he was; and thus, for all intensive purposes, Mr. Jones remained the landlord, who had had a dramatic change of style. Such was the rise in profits, that Mr. Jones’s now minor holding, actually brought him in more money than before, with virtually no hands on, needed; insuring his fees at Tom’s law company, were being well met.
Tom had employed a well mannered, considerate, young man, Mr. Wilder, to manage the Wishing Well, and was greatly pleased with his selection. Not only had Mr. Wilder proven to be honest and trustworthy with the books; on a part-time basis, he was a well sought after gigolo to a select group of very rich female clients.
The working girls simply loved Mr. Wilder and Tom, more like friends than bosses; and the business itself was seen as the best and most protected conditions they could possibly hope to be working in.
And it was quite devious, really, how Tom kept dropping the name, the Wishing Well, into luncheon conversations with the wealthiest of his law clients. Few ignoring the chance to visit an out-of-town, discrete, high-class establishment, where they could be treated like kings, while fucking the most beautiful women they could ever imagine.
Indeed, the Wishing Well was doing very nicely, thank you very much, the four hundred thousand-dollar investment could yet be turned into a profit; and as a lawyer, Tom was ensuring this money was well hidden from the IRS, his firm, and to a lesser degree, his wife. He wanted to tell her, just didn’t quite know how she would react to his initial hefty outlay, and even after their long agreement on sexual freedom, he still held doubts about what she might think about owning a brothel.

While thoughts of April and whether or not she should ring again, consumed Melody, her father was visiting his secret venture.
He did this periodically, often not troubling Mr. Wilder with his presence, while checking conditions and clientele.
Sometimes he visited a certain older and wiser woman, who he considered both intelligent and attractive. But mostly he came just to admire things.
With profits continuing to grow rapidly, and conditions always found to be above expectations, seldom did he leave without a smile on his face; and on this particular afternoon, things started out in the very same manner.
This was to change.
On the ground floor, in a back room converted to look like a rich family’s massive entertaining area—not unlike the ballroom in the secluded Manor on the outskirts of Summerville—milled a number of the well-dressed working girls. Amongst them were clients smoking cigars, drinking and chatting, as though the Wishing Well was some kind of exclusive club.
Perfect, thought Tom, money to burn and the girls were barely working up a sweat. And what’s more he did not recognize any of the men, which was always a concern—he didn’t fancy running into a client from his law firm.
However, recognition did come when he looked at the girls.
First it was the French Maid. He might not have recognized her if it had not been for the fact, that fearing she might actually be as young as Little Bo Peep, he had watched her masked face more closely when the three of them had fucked on the stairs in the Manor. She now wore a tight fitting black suit, with red tie, black shoes, a man’s black hat, and her dark hair pulled back severely—a deliberate masculine look, and a complete contrast to her maid outfit, yet he was certain it was her. Unmasked, she looked closer to thirty than twenty, Pat would have approved.
But the French Maid was not the only surprise awaiting him. The building had another new ‘tenant’. Little Bo Peep was also dressed differently than when Tom Evans had last seen her. However, her pretty young face, with its sparkling smile and big blue eyes, and her bobbing blonde hair, were undeniable. She was part Swedish, Tom recalled, and her colouring quite natural.
Relaxed, dressed in an expensive blue office suit, black stockings and black heels, she sat in a ruby-red leather armchair surrounded by drooling potential clients.
Tom watched for a while. It was a well-groomed, but overweight, gray-haired gentleman of at least fifty-five, who finally stole her away from the crowd, and when she went to leave, the French Maid—now businessperson—followed behind.
Like at the Manor party, they were a team.
What a thought, the owner of Summerville’s most prized mansion, had hired girls from Tom’s own establishment, and without his knowledge. He wondered whether it was not the first time this had happened. He really should keep a better eye on the records. However, his thoughts soon returned to the present when, while watching, he could not help but consider the client’s age. He thought he was past judging such things—all just good fun between consenting adults—yet for the first time, he actually felt ill. Bo Peep was easily young enough to be the client’s daughter, but was she really as young as Melody, it looked more likely than not?
Yet as sick as he felt, he could not help but discretely follow. This was when Mr. Wilder did appear. “Mr. Meredith (although he knew his real name, an alias was always used), nice to see you. Can I get you a drink?”
Usually he was happy to see his manager, however on his occasion Tom Evans looked annoyed, while trying to dismiss the attention he was suddenly receiving. “Just a quick visit.” His smile was forced.
However, always looking to impress his boss, Mr. Wilder persisted. “You’re sure I can’t help you with anything? I noticed you looking at our new girls. Lovely aren’t they. Been here less than a week and already they’re the talk of the town. Just got this phone call from nowhere…”
“They are very beautiful. But isn’t the blonde one a little young?” They were now standing in the lobby looking to where a lift had whisked the girls and their client away. “And have you checked their health records.”
“All clear, and you’re right, she is very young. The youngest we’ve had here. But everything about her checks out. Hard to imagine a twenty-one-year-old being so experienced, but she is—a real winner in fact.” After ensuring that no other working girls were listening, leaning forward, he added, “The sexiest thing we’ve had come to us since the changeover.” Truth was that with all the changes they had made, such was the growing reputation amongst working girls, that they came to them, rather than Tom having to advertise. It had been fun at first, sharing with Mr. Wilder the job of picking the cream. In more recent times, however, he had simply left employment to his manager.
“Very lucky to find her,” Mr. Wilder continued, “The older clients pay a small fortune to be with her.” And lowering his voice even further. “She’ll do anything, you know, like a seasoned porn queen; which, by the way, her Internet records say she had a little dab at too. Pulls off that innocent look magnificently, don’t you think? Puts a sting in your pants,” he actually grabbed himself, an action quite contrary to his smart appearance, “and you noticed how she likes to work with her friend. Does that go across well! They’re a virtual gold mine.” For some reason Tom actually found his manager’s wink a little disgusting, “Manna from heaven, you might say. Would you like to watch? Together they’re simply amazing, and I thought I’d seen everything in this place?”
Rather than a verbal response, Tom simply followed. He had watched before on odd occasions, and Mr. Wilder knew it.
Several of the larger rooms on the top floor had been discreetly fitted with two-way glass, allowing unimpaired viewing for those hidden behind, in what were known as not-so-secret, concealed Peeping Tom rooms. The room Bo Peep had accompanied her old, slightly obese client to, was called the Fantasy Palace.
“I just need to know how well they treat our clients…” Tom began, while Mr. Wilder drew short of the Fantasy Palace’s door then slid aside a small painting and unlocked a secret narrow door, that looked very much like part of the wall paneling.
“Yes,” said Mr. Wilder, “Of course, I understand. We must maintain our high standard. We’ll have drinks later if you like. I’m sure you’d like to check the books, it’s been a particular good month.”
He left.
As always, after seating himself in an armchair, one of two, what struck Tom first, was a feeling of vulnerability—as though he was the one on view. It took a moment to adjust. 
Inside the Fantasy Palace, on this particular day, made out to look like an office, the leering gentleman was already seated in a large, low, black leather chair, some distance, in front of a large, mostly glass, office desk.
The pretty young blonde sat behind the uncluttered desk, on a fabric swivel chair, that had thin black arms. With smart small glasses and a concentrated face, she looked completely authentic, and she began to type.
The flat panel monitor was slightly to one side so that she could address any visitors, such as the gentleman. Finally she looked up. “Mr. Lane will be with you soon.” She said, “Is there anything I can get you while you wait?”
“No,” He replied in a slightly gravelly voice.
She began to type some more. She typed well. A wall clock ticked. She looked up. “It’s my break time,” she said, more to herself than the gentleman. She stopped typing and went to a coffee machine. She looked so smart in her short office suit. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”
“No.”
“She came back to her desk and sat then cupped her coffee mug as though to warm her hands, and sipped. While she sipped, she eased back a little, uncrossed her legs and relaxed further.
The gentleman was watching her every move.
She began to part her legs, a little at first, then further, then clamped closed, before parting again, a kind of relaxed swing. The table had no front to it, and in his low position, the gentleman had an unimpaired view.
Tom Evans was angry, she was too young to be doing these things in front of an old man, no matter how well he paid.
And he was jealous.
She had made him feel so important at the party, like she was his girl. They had only briefly conversed on the fact that she ‘entertained men’ for a living, and even then it had only been after his continual probing. As a true professional, rather than reasons of shame, she was more dedicated to making Tom feel one hundred percent the centre of her world, than just another client. It had been an intoxicating feeling, one so young and beautiful, appearing infatuated with an older man.
She was his, and he suddenly didn’t want to share her with anyone.
But the scene went on regardless, legs casually swinging open and closed.
He wanted to stop her but if he did that, what would she think, she was a call girl, not a girlfriend; and Mr. Wilder, considered a good friend now, saw nothing wrong with her current employment?
He thought of leaving.
But did not.
Now those legs were spread and held blatantly apart. Was he actually feeling frustrated by the fact that the older man had a better view than himself; was he that much of a voyeur, actually wanting to watch a girl roughly the same age as his daughter, seduce this old man? For a second he even thought about Melody. What would his daughter look like doing that? To see up Melody’s dress, to see her…But then how could he think such terrible things?
His pants were swelling. He wanted to fight it, but couldn’t. 
Perhaps if he saw Little Bo Peep in the true light of her profession, he might think less about the feelings she had stirred in him at the Manor. He was ashamed he had thought about her like that at all. It was not what his wife and he had agreed to. 
Maybe just.
Maybe watching was exactly what he should be doing.
Beyond the glass she sipped more coffee, then peered over her eyeglasses and mug, and knowingly, teasingly, parted her legs wider still. Her black pantyhose were crotchless, and she wore a silky red thong. “Busy morning,” she said, mischievously, “girl needs to relax a little now and then. And this is my break.” She put the mug down. Now a hand went below the table and slowly traveled up her spread right leg. It came to rest on her neat tiny panties and without a care in the world, she started to rub and pat her concealed mound. “Are you watching, Mr. Thomas?” She asked cheekily. “I think you are.”
He did not answer.
“Yes, you are, aren’t you? I can see you staring under the table. You’re looking at me playing with myself. Do you like what you see?” She ran a finger seductively along her slit. Then she pushed her whole hand inside her panties and plunged several fingers deep into her hidden cunt. She closed her eyes and blew a breath, then she pulled out her fingers and rubbed all over her clit; her mouth and pretty eyes now open.
Still Mr. Thomas did not answer.
“I don’t mind,” she continued, “I want you to watch me. I want you to watch me play with my pretty young pussy. But I think it would be better if I wasn’t playing all by myself.”
He said and did nothing.
She moved a hand to her smart blue secretary jacket, and slowly undid the buttons and let it full apart. “My daddy says I have pretty titties too. Would you like to see my pretty titties, Mr. Thomas?”
Finally, a strained whisper, “Yes.”
She undid her white blouse. She had a lace red bra that opened at the front. She carefully unclipped it and parted the left side. Her mid-sized breast was as perfect as she had promised, and better was her long erect pink nipple. She teased it. All the while, her legs were still wide apart. “Do you think they are as pretty as what my daddy says?” And now she fully exposed both.
He took a second to catch his breath, “Yes.”
She gently squeezed them. “But how can I know that you’re not just saying that, just to keep me happy? What does your friend say? Does he think I’m pretty?” She looked directly at the bulge in his pants.
Stupidly he asked, “my friend?”
Instead of answering, making it more obvious, “I need you to prove to me that you think I’m pretty,” she said confidently, “Why not let your friend come out and play.” Now she had one hand gently squeezing a perfect tit, while her other hand carelessly wandered all over her inner thighs and red knickers.
The gentleman was past reservations, and quickly unzipped his fly and pulled out his raging hard-on. It was not the most beautiful cock, but the blond eyed it like she’d never seen a more perfect form. Now she rubbed her panties with more force. “Please, Mr. Thomas. Please play with it. I want to see you pump that pretty thing of yours.”
By now the invisible Tom Evans was storming with frustration. But no longer was there anger, he simply wished he could see under that table a little better.
The door of the Fantasy Palace suddenly sprung open, and in walked the pseudo businessman, Mr. Lane. “Mr. Thomas. I do apologize. I appreciate you waiting,” But then realizing how her secretary was hurriedly trying to rearrange herself, and that Mr. Thomas was concealing himself,” She quickly added with a smile, “I see your wait was not as tiresome as I feared.”
The real businessman said nothing.
After looking at the clock, “Your break again?” Mr. Lane addressed her secretary.
“Yes.” Said the blond, shyly.
“And we all know what you like to do on your breaks.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Don’t be sorry, you’re entitled to your coffee breaks, and I don’t wish to tell you what to do in them. But now you’ve left poor Mr. Thomas here, all frustrated, and that’s NOT a good thing.”
“I’m sorry…Truly I am.”
“Well what are you going to do about it, Miss. Pennyworth? Mr. Thomas is a good friend to this company.” The irony to the situation was that although her appearance was accurate, the Mr. Lane character had a perfectly feminine voice.
“What should I do?”
“Stand up, Miss. Pennyworth.” Mr. Lane commanded. Then she forcefully grabbed the back of the office chair and pulled it on castors, until it was brought around in front of the desk to within five feet of where Mr. Thomas sat quietly. “Now sit,” she demanded.
Miss. Pennyworth sat.
Mr. Lane looked up again at the wall clock. “You have ten minutes left, I believe.”
“Yes, Sir,” said the blond.
“Then show me what you do in your break. I want to see. And I want you to make my good friend, Mr. Thomas here, happy.”
The blond just sat in feigned shyness.
Mr. Lane came forward. “You were playing with yourself, weren’t you.” And the boss leant down and pushed the blond’s short skirt up. “Open your legs.” She demanded. “Show me what you were doing to keep my client happy.”
Reluctantly at first, the blond opened up.
“Wider.” Mr. Lane ordered. “Put your leg over the arm, I want your legs as wide as they’ll spread.” When the blond complied. “Pretty. Very pretty. And you wear crotchless pantyhose to work. I like that. Do you like them, Mr. Thomas?”
The old gentleman simply nodded.

Tom Evans could stand it no longer. He pressed a button next to his chair. It was an intercom. “Yes sir,” said Mr. Wilder.
“Princess Jewel,” was all Tom needed to say.

“But look, she’s wearing panties, that’s a little unfortunate wouldn’t you say? You can’t see her pussy…You want to see it, don’t you, Mr. Thomas?”
Mr. Thomas didn’t know how to react.
“Miss. Pennyworth, don’t be such a tease. Show this good gentleman what you’re hiding inside those pretty knickers of yours.”
All feigned shyness evaporated as the young blond, using two hands, slowly pulled her silky red panties off to fully exposed her naked cunt. Again she spread her legs wide.
“Oh my, Miss. Pennyworth,” said the ex-maid cum Mr. Lane. “All this time you’ve been hiding something so pretty.” Not only was the blond’s pussy completely void of hair, the hood of her clit was pierced with a small shiny stud. Turning to her client, Mr. Lane said, “Mr. Thomas isn’t that the most beautiful thing you ever saw?”
He nodded.
Again to the blond, “Go on then. Let’s see how well you play with yourself.”
And the blond began in earnest.

From nowhere, Tom’s mind returned to his daughter. Again, like in the mansion, he wondered, could Melody’s pussy look as pretty as this? Did she play with herself? Quickly, he shook off such terrible thoughts, this was wrong, where was it coming from? Maybe it really was wrong to be so infatuated with someone so close to his daughter’s age.
Princess Jewel entered the not-so-secret room. She had long wavy, fair—but not blond—hair; sitting atop her head, a small rhinestone tiara. She wore rhinestone earrings and a number of necklaces, and thick rhinestone bracelets on both arms. In her bellybutton, a genuine diamond stud, around her waist, a sparkling thin chain, on her ankles, diamond anklets, and on her big toes, rhinestone toe rings. She wore an incredibly sheer, completely see-through, flowing, pale blue gown that fell to the floor. She was otherwise naked.
This was Tom’s previous dreamgirl. At thirty-five she was one of the older working girls in his establishment; but to Tom, because of her intelligence as much as her beauty, she was considered the best.
At least, she was the best, until now, had Little Bo Peep taken that mantel? He hoped not.
In silence, Princess Jewel just stood there. She was tall, and with classical features, the only thing separating her from a catwalk model, was over enhanced breasts.
Tom loved to fuck her. It was always different, and always fulfilling, as though she knew exactly what he had wanted every time he had ‘visited’ her. But, unlike Little Bo Peep, one thing he had been able to contain, was any feelings outside of simple friendship. Like having an exceptionally attractive female friend that he could fuck whenever he liked, without any real emotional consequences. Up until now, he had had little trouble in maintaining his promise to his wife.
She continued to say nothing.
He liked it when there were moments like this, as though she didn’t need to be told anything.
He just looked at her.
And she, him.
Then she glanced at the transparent wall, then back, directly at his crotch. She flowed forward, knelt in front of him, and after he obligingly eased in his chair, she unzipped his pants. A hand went into his concealed boxer shorts and found his swollen cock. She gently pulled it out. It was larger than the older gentleman’s was; throbbing thick and tall against pressed, business suit pants. 
Now what made Princess Jewel even more special, was her ability to never repeat a performance—Every time she fucked, or even gave head, was slightly different. A complete mystery to Tom how a woman could remember such finer details, like it was a pet project to keep him interested.
She grasped his shaft and simply held it for awhile. And he kept watching the two-way mirror in front of him.

The blond was totally at ease now, fully playing with herself, and so near to the bloated old man’s wide chair.
Mr. Lane watched them both closely. “Look how wet she’s getting.” She came to the blond girl and knelt down slightly to one side, so the gentleman’s vision was not impaired. She dipped a finger inside her secretary’s cunt, and pulled it out glistening, then presented the finger to the younger girl, to suck on her own juices.
Then the blond continued to seductively play with both her clit and cunt hole. “Oh my gosh,” said Mr. Lane. “Look at that.” A drip was forming.
Tom, with all his experiences, had never known a woman to get so wet that she openly dripped. It was something that had stayed with him when he had first seen how wet Little Bo Peep had become while the French Maid had played with her with a variety of toys, on the stairs. A sure sign, so he believed, that she really did enjoy her craft.
“I don’t know about you, Mr. Thomas,” Mr. Lane said, “But my cock is fairly bursting to get out.” Then as though hit by a sudden inspiration; turning back to the secretary, “what about the phone?” she asked, “Have you ever had phone sex?”
The blond was silent for a moment, then shyly, “sometimes.”
“Mr. Thomas, would you like to watch my secretary engaging in a little phone sex?”
All he could do was nod in agreement.
Mr. Lane then surprised the old man, “Do you happen to have a phone?”
Mr. Thomas looked confused.
“A cellular?” the pseudo Boss asked. “Do you have a cell phone?” She knew that he did. He had been seen using one, while waiting downstairs.
The client, still somewhat confused, removed his mobile phone from an inside jacket pocket.
Mr. Lane took it and quickly gave it to Miss. Pennyworth.
The secretary knew what to do.
“Hope you’re not expecting any phone calls for a while,” Mr. Lane said, laughingly.

Tom simply couldn’t believe his eyes; a cell phone sliding in and out of that young wet cunt.
Like a cat licking cream, Jewel started to lick the head of his dick.

“Shit, Mr. Thomas, this is getting too much,” said the ex-maid. “My cock is throbbing so hard I am definitely going to have to let it loose. Maybe you should too.” A knowing glance, “I know you had it out before.” Then she blatantly unzipped and pulled out a long black strap-on dildo.
While Little Bo Peep openly eyed the dildo, the cell phone continued to slowly move in and out of her luscious young cunt.
“How about some cock?” The pseudo boss asked.
The blond looked lustfully at the big bouncing dildo. “I think I would like that. May I please have your black cock, sir.”
“Should I fuck her?” Mr. Lane asked the old gentleman, who was now openly playing with himself.
“Please.” The secretary whimpered to Mr. Thomas. “Please tell my boss to fuck me.”
“You really want it, don’t you?” said Mr. Lane.
“Yes please, Mr. Lane, please fuck me with your big dick.”
Again to the old gentleman, “should I give it to her?”
With heavy lights focused on the blond, this meant Mr. Thomas was slightly hidden in shadow; however Tom could see him finally respond with an affirmative nod of his head.
To the girl, Mr. Lane added, “take out that phone and make sure you clean it before you give it back.”
The secretary took her time taking it out before then sucking clean the stubby end. Then she leant forward and returned it to the old gentleman. “Thank you,” she whispered, in handing it over. And cheekily, “I was kind of hoping it might ring.”
The swivel chair was repositioned so that the action was now a little side on to the businessman’s chair. The expensive office chair had a reclining back, allowing the blond to fully relax. Mr. Lane again pushed up the blue skirt as far as it would go, exposing that thoroughly delectable pussy. “Wide.” she demanded. The secretary spread her legs. “Wider.” And this time the secretary swung a leg over both arms of the chair, giving the widest possible access to her perfect cunt.
To Mr. Thomas, “I want you to watch closely as I fuck my pretty young secretary,” said the pseudo boss, and on knees she brought the black dildo to within inches of that lovely shaven pink pussy. She slapped the dildo against the studded clit. “Naughty Miss. Pennyworth,” she said. “Naughty little girl, always playing with your pussy. What you really need is a good hard cock.” And in it went; at least a good three to four inches.
Mr. Thomas immediately came.
Yet this did not stop Mr. Lane. It was as though the two girls now did it simply for their own fun.

“Fuck that cunt.” Tom said quietly, disbelieving that they had not stopped. Princess Jewel was now sucking and licking like his cock was her favorite lolly.
All he had to do was touch her shoulder for her to know it was time to stop.
She stood, making sure not to block the view. Facing him, slightly leaning to one side, she moved forward. On the edge of the wide leather chair, she knelt then sidled forward until her large breasts nearly touched Tom. Still careful not to completely block the private show, she rose a little higher, gently grasped his cock, and placed it at the beginning of her vagina.
And sank.

At last the two girls noticed. “I think Mr. Thomas is done for now.” Miss. Pennyworth observed. He was covered in cum and unsure what to do next.
It was Mr. Lane, still in costume, still with black dildo bobbing about, who came to the aid of the client with a box of tissues. Mr. Thomas was left to clean himself.
While he did, “We’re not quite finished here yet, but you’re welcome to leave whenever you like.”
Without another word being uttered, Mr. Thomas immediately left.
The moment he was gone, the two girls started giggling.
A job well done and they hadn’t even needed to fuck or suck him.
However the biggest surprise was yet to come for Tom.
For then they did, indeed, return to what they were doing, Mr. Lane stripping down, removing the business façade, but keeping the strap-on. Now two beautiful women overtly fucked and played on the desk and the chair as though they knew they were still being watched. Then they threw away the dildo and simply used fingers to bring each other to exaggerated orgasms.

And up and down, Jewel slowly rocked; the exquisite sound of cock moving around inside her cunt and bum slapping on Tom’s lap, filled the room.
Suddenly overcome with urgency. “I’m going to come.” Tom whispered.
Jewel carefully removed herself from his slick dick.
Tom moved forward. This was not typical of the prostitutes in his establishment, but as owner, and knowing the lady well, he was somewhat privileged. He wanked and exploded into her mouth, and she drank his cum without fuss, before quietly slipping away.
Left feeling completely spent, Tom watched with a different kind of interest as the two girls were dressing.
A fleetingly glance where the secretary/Little Bo Peep, seemed to look directly at him. That face. It was so young and so very pretty. And it reminded him of someone.
Of his daughter.
In truth, they didn’t really look much alike, but in that moment there wasn’t a single difference.

Chapter Eight

Melody did not ring. Tuesday came and went. Wednesday saw April back at college. However, although she did not avoid Melody, she was still far from being the bright spark she usually was.
Having foregone the cafeteria, they were seated in a large quadrangle. Melody could stand it no longer. “Please, April. Tell me what happened?”
When April looked up, her scowl was enough to peel oranges. “Leave it alone, okay. I’m here aren’t I? Isn’t that enough?”
“Part of you is.” With a finger, Melody drew back stray hair that had fallen over her friend’s face. “Don’t,” April flinched. “I don’t want you touching me like that, okay. People will think…”
“What people April? Nobody could give a damn about us, and since when should caring mean anything more than just that. I haven’t suddenly turned into Raylene.”
“Sorry.” And April did look sorry. But then she turned away again to look at nothing.
Having waited so patiently, Melody was not about to give up. “The physical part of you is here, but the rest is somewhere else…Please, April. I want to help. Did something happen that shouldn’t have?”
A long pause, then still looking away, with cloudy eyes, “was I raped? That’s what you want to know, isn’t it?” Melody’s reply was not immediate, so April forcibly added. “Isn’t it? You want to know if Clayton raped me?”
Melody had not wanted to admit it to herself, but this was, indeed, the burning question that, fearing the answer, had prevented her ringing on the Monday night. Could she now handle the reply? She took a moment. They had promised to be friends forever; and that had to include whatever dramas came along the way. April needed her. “Yes, April. That’s exactly what I want to know. Because, if he did, we’ll make him pay.”
“Stop already.” April turned back, and now the storm in her eyes was clearing. “I only wish it was that simple.”
“Tell me April. I want to know.” Melody stressed.
Another short silence, then while the last of the storm leaked from April’s eyes, “come over tonight. I’ll tell you everything…but not here, okay.” She wiped away her distress, and rose.
“What about right now?” Melody confronted, then elaborating, “you’re not going to learn anything while you’re feeling the way you do. Why don’t we take the afternoon off?”
“You! I’ve never known you to miss a lesson.”
“You’re a lot more important than a few missed classes.” This time when Melody tried to show concern by wrapping an arm around her friend’s shoulders, she was not rejected, and linked together, they left.
Only one person noticed them leave. Travis had promised himself that he would no longer spy on Melody, however so far such a promise was proving impossible—easier to vow never to masturbate again.
What he had witnessed made him consider April for the first time. Up until then the short, platinum blonde, had been nothing more than an annoyance, now he saw suffering.
Still his major concerns were with Melody, and the fact that she did not wear the bracelet he had spent a small fortune on.

The mall, with a crowd of afternoon shoppers, eventually proved to be too uncomfortable for April, so they went to Melody’s house. As expected both parents were out. Having missed lunch at college, they raided the fridge, April rediscovering her recently lost appetite.
Then, with coffees in hand, they chose to settle in the massive lounge suite of the huge living area. There were two matching, material, three-seater lounges. 
“So April, are we going to talk?” Melody sat on one of the three-seaters.
“What have we been doing?” They had conversed surprisingly well since leaving behind the college. Almost as though April suddenly had no problems at all. Still, not looking entirely comfortable, she was sitting on the edge of the opposing lounge.
“Filling in time,” Melody retorted. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve missed our chats, but that’s not the point. Whether we follow the latest fashion, or stay as we are, is not going to help your situation.” At April’s insistence, in the mall, they had looked in a number of clothes shops, but had bought nothing. “I want to know, okay.”
“Does your mother ever come home early?”
“Not usually.”
“Your brother? And what about Mrs. Jenkins?” Mrs. Jenkins was the housekeeper who had her own key.
“Look, would you prefer we went up to my room?”
April took a swig of coffee and burnt her lip. She sat back and tried to find comfort in the oversized chair, but it wasn’t to be. Straight-backed, again on the edge, “Yeah, I think perhaps that would be best. If you don’t mind,” then she stood.
After entering the always-locked bedroom, April glanced back to the door; Melody took the cue and re-locked it.
Then a sudden terrible memory—that morning Melody had woken after a sexy dream, and recalling some of it, had lazily masturbated, while watching a further scene from her recent addition, the adult DVD. Unfortunately, her private session had made her late and she had rushed off without clearing away all the evidence.
Worse, before Melody could reach the small golden key that she usually kept under a satin nightie, in the top drawer of her bedside table, April had already noticed it.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, noticing that it was unmade, and that the white TV cabinet was open. “Not like you Mel. You’re always so tidy. And what’s this?” She had retrieved the key from the top of the side table, and was holding it. “You got a secret diary?” Then it dawned on her. “Or the mysterious bottom drawer, perhaps.” It was meant to be an offhanded remark. Melody, however, looked as though her whole world had just caved in. “What Mel? What did I say? Hey, look, take it.” She handed over the key. “I wasn’t going to try opening anything. We’ve all got our little secrets. Welcome to the club.”
On reclaiming the key, “Sorry about the mess.” 
“Running late this morning?” April was still looking around.
“A little.” Melody was now wishing they’d not sought out her room.
“But enough time to watch TV?”
“Nothing much. An early show while I got ready…Look, April, I’m not always as neat as you think.”
“Weren’t up to anything, were you?” April cheekily asked.
“We’re not here to talk about me.”
“So what is in that drawer?”
“You just said we all have our little secrets.” Unable to remember whether she’d locked the drawer or not, fear coursed through her body as much as annoyance.
“Sorry. No need to bite my head off. Just a little nervous. I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“No, I’m the one who should be sorry. Okay, maybe you should know, you’re my best friend. I do have some private stuff. I just don’t think this is the time to…”
“Maybe it’s exactly the right time. If I knew you were not the sweet thing this room usually suggests, I might feel more comfortable talking about what happened.”
“Well I’m not a nun, if that’s what you mean. I just don’t talk about it.” Then realizing how that might sound. “I guess I’m just not as open as you are about those kinds of things. People think I’m…”
“Yes, I know. That you’re some kind of angel girl.” April finished. “You have an image to keep up, and I don’t…Hey, look, that’s okay. I understand.”
Seeing the hurt, “I like the way you are,” Melody fervently stressed. “Really, I do. I only wish I could be more like you.”
April laughed. But there was no humour in her voice. “It’s not always a good thing. Look where it’s got me this time.”
An uncomfortable situation averted, Melody took a breath, “and where is that, April?”
And the walls came tumbling down.
What surprised Melody most was how well she was able to take her friend’s revelations. Perhaps, having considered every possible reality, now faced with the truth, she was less overwhelmed. “You’ve got to stop blaming yourself,” while seated on her chair, directly in front of April, she stated, “It’s not your fault.”
“I let them.”
“What else were you supposed to do? In their state, they were hardly about to let you go.”
“I didn’t do a lot to discourage them.”
“You rang me. I should have guessed. Maybe I could have…”
“Stop it, Mel. It wasn’t your fault. I told you everything was fine, remember. I thought I had it under control. But then I drank some more. Thought it would encourage them to keep drinking and forget about me. That was stupid.”
“They took advantage of your state.”
“They’re pricks, Mel, but I let them be pricks. I should have known better. Now they’re going to be bragging all over school.”
“Both of them?”
“Clayton mostly.” Then April realized what her friend meant. “No, just Wayne. Clayton just watched.”
“Wayne!”
“Yes, Mel, Wayne. And it was a set-up. One I fell right into because I was so stupid. I should have listened to you. Clayton is a jerk.”
“Wayne was the one making love to you, yet Clayton is to blame? I’m not quite following.”
Impatiently, April said, “Don’t call it love, Mel, he fucked me. That’s all it was. And not your usual way either. He fucked me in the arse while Clayton just stood by watching, encouraging him…He’s an animal, you know, yelling at Wayne to go harder. No one’s ever done that to me before, Mel—no one. He hurt me.”
“And Clayton just watched?”
“That’s what I just said; like I was some kind of prize he was giving to Wayne…He just stood around, laughing a lot. I hated him watching like that, telling Wayne what to do, like I was his toy. I’ve never felt so humiliated in all my life. And what do I do now, the whole football team probably knows? April the arse-fuck.”
“I’ve heard nothing. And I haven’t seen Wayne at all since it happened,” said Melody. “Maybe he’s none to pleased with himself. He deserves to go to jail for what he did to you.”
“That’s a bit dramatic,” April managed a small laugh, “I really didn’t do a lot to stop them, you know. I thought it might even be fun. I was drunk and stupid. I let my imagination get the better of me, and two arseholes took advantage of that. But I hate myself more. I’ve gone too far this time.” April looked totally forlorn, talking helped, but the situation hadn’t changed. “They’re going to crucify me, if they haven’t already. I should never have gotten into his car…I’ll get over the pain, Mel, but will I ever get over the shame?”
“You were confused. Anyone can make a mistake like that.”
“You wouldn’t have.” April’s eyes connected with Melody’s. “Look, I really appreciate your support, but, hey, I was a fool. They were bastards who took advantage of a fool. You think I’m so confident, always the girl in control, but I really let you down this time.”
“You never let me down, April. And I don’t think you’re a fool. And we’ll find a way to get those bastards for what they did.”
“Come here,” April held out her arms. Melody moved from her chair to the bed and they hugged. “I love you Melody Evans.”
“Friends forever, remember.” And when they separated, April began to cry; her actions set off Melody. They hugged again, and laughed. Then Melody used a finger to sweep away hair from her friend’s face. This time April did not resist. “You’re beautiful.”
“I don’t feel beautiful.” April hung her head. “In fact, I feel quite ugly, lately.”
“You’re totally beautiful, and I’m lucky to have such a beautiful person as a best friend…So let’s not hear any more talk of ugly.” 
“Your stuff,” April was looking for diversion. “The stuff you hide. I don’t know why I never imagined you to have secrets. Am I allowed to know any of them?”
“April, you don’t want to know about that kind of stuff right now.”
“Sexy stuff, you mean?”
“Well, yes, kind of.”
“It’s okay you know. I’m not going to let some arseholes put me off sex. It’s not like that. I’m just ashamed of how stupid I was. I haven’t suddenly become a nun…So, my so-called innocent friend has got a few devilish secrets.”
“I really don’t know.”
“Come on, Mel. How bad can it be? Maybe if we played a little ‘truth or dare’ and you can pull out whenever you like.”
“Maybe.”
“It would help.” April sheepishly encouraged. “Go on, pick.”
After some consideration, “Truth,” said Melody.
“Okay,” April took a moment to think, then, “do you do the thing?”
“The thing?”
“You know, play with yourself. Do you masturbate? All the books say it’s good for a girl to play with herself.”
Shyly, “Sometimes.”
“Like full on play with yourself.”
“I just said so.”
“Vibrators, shit like that.”
“April!”
“Come on. I just told you my dark secret. I want to know, okay.”
Melody looked away when she answered. “Yeah, maybe.”
April was excited. “Melody Evans users a vibrator, I love this.”
A deep breath, “look, okay,” said Melody, “I sometimes use a vibrator, but listen, I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of pervert.”
“Using a vibrator doesn’t make you a pervert, Mel, just a little more normal than I imagined you were.”
Mel quickly responded. “Truth or dare.”
“Truth.”
“Have you ever gone to school with no panties on?”
“You know the answer to that. Of course I have. I’ve told you before.”
Melody suddenly remembered—what a waste of a question. April was quick, “your turn to pick.”
“Truth.”
“A little boring, but okay then, if you’re not game to try a dare,” A pause, “Have you ever watched a naughty movie while you’ve played with yourself?”
Oh shit! thought Melody. “You win,” she said.
“Don’t just give up like that.” April was disappointed.
Melody quietly responded, “yeah, okay, you got me. See, I really am a pervert.”
“Because you’ve seen an adult movie? So what! So have I.”
“I own an adult movie.” Melody stressed.
“Shit, Mel.” April was truly shocked, but quickly recovering and hoping to make light of the confession, “Is it any good?”
“Guys own adult movies, April, not girls.” Mel said.
“That’s just sexist. What’s wrong with you buying something like that? You’re just curious like the rest of us. And considering you never date, I can rather understand.”
As though it was suddenly good for the soul, overcome with confession, Mel blurted, “A library. I’ve got an entire library.” Amazed by what she had just said, she grimaced at April.
April loved it. “You’re kidding!”
Melody didn’t answer.
“Oh well, fuck me, my Melody is a closet voyeur.” Then realizing how shocked she sounded, “Look, Mel, don’t worry about it. Really, it doesn’t bother me. Girls can be voyeurs too. I watch guys all the time…”
“But not porn.”
“Not porn, maybe. But I think about sex a lot. Can we watch some?”
“Truth or dare,” said Melody.
“Dare.”
“I dare you to tell me your darkest secret…Then I might let you watch something.”
“I already did. And that’s a ‘truth’, not a ‘dare’.”
“I mean something else.”
“Okay, okay. A secret I haven’t told you, and if it’s good, you’re going to let me see your collection. Is that the deal?”
“Maybe.”
“Well is it or not?”
“Just maybe, okay.”
April took it for a yes, “A dark secret you don’t already know.” She had plenty. The worst being the times she had let the big family dog lick her pussy, and how, recently, she had even played with his ample doggy cock, until it was erect. She had even ever so carefully, spied on her younger brother, and had watched him masturbate—she had loved that. But these were not things she would ever mention to anyone. However, there was another secret that could be perfect for the occasion, “You might be too shocked.”
“Are you conceding?”
“What about the drawer.”
“Still on about that, are you…Okay, tell me your darkest secret, and if I like it, I’ll let you look in the drawer.” Melody actually found herself feeling somewhat enthused. It was not often she had April stumped. In fact there was a good chance she might actually win for once.”
“Raylene.” April blurted.
“What?”
“Raylene. A year ago. Remember when I tried out for the cheerleading squad. You were thinking about it too at the time.”
“You used to hang around with her sometimes, that’s all I remember.”
“How do you think I know she’s a lesbian?”
“By the way she acts, I guess. Everyone thinks she is.”
“I actually know she is.” April stressed.
“You mean.”
“Yes, Melody, wakey wakey.”
“You made out with Raylene,” Melody said incredulously, unaware of how surprised she looked and sounded.
“It just kind of happened, and Raylene was really good about it. Kept it quiet. We’re still friends, but not like that though. I just ring her sometimes. I’m not a lesbian, okay. I’m not. You know I’m not. I like guys way too much. I shouldn’t have told you.”
“I had no idea you were friends with Raylene, you never let on.”
“I didn’t know what you would think.”
“Think! I think its great. I wish you’d told me though.”
“Great?”
“I can be okay with things like that, too, you know.” Melody shrugged her shoulders. “It’s not that unusual. You hear about girls trying it on with other girls all the time, and I’m sure most of them aren’t really lesbians.”
“I can’t believe who I’m talking to. Is this really my Melody Evans?”
“I’ve thought about it.” Melody exclaimed.
April continued to look stunned, “About being with a girl?”
“It looks pretty good on tape.”
“Girls?”
“More sensual than with a guy.”
“Melody Evans has been on this bed, wanking while watching girls fuck each other, is that what you’re trying to say?”
“Stop calling me that.” Referring to the use of her full name, “I said I was no nun. And I’m no lesbian either. I still prefer watching the guys making love to girls.”
“Which brings me to my prize. I really want to see this library of yours.”
Melody was passed caring about what her friend might think. Let it all out. And she did. She owned more than ten different videos and five DVD’s. She had watched more, but had thrown away any that did not come up to her high standards.
April was in heaven, looking at one cover after another. “These actually look rather good.” She finally said. “Only seen a couple with Roger (an ex-boyfriend), and they were terrible. Really boring, you wouldn’t think sex could be boring, but it can be. But these look okay, and some are actually made by women. I like that, girl power in the porn industry…So are we going to watch one?”
“You just finished telling me that some arsehole virtually raped you.”
April was not about to be dissuaded. “Tomorrow I’ll go to school and it will all start over again with me wondering what everyone is thinking. Today I just want to forget about all that. Let’s be a little outrageous, could even be good medicine.”
“There are some anal stuff in most of them.” Melody confessed.
“Stop worrying, and let’s just watch one, all right. And then you can tell me some more about your secret little drawer.”
Melody was defeated. She selected her latest title because she believed the sex was quite beautifully shot. There was another scene with the African American that she thought April might like. This time there were two fair-haired girls, who looked like twins, accompanying him. It was hot, very hot, so sizzling hot Melody soon wondered at her choice. Surely now April would know she was a complete pervert.
April, however, simply couldn’t stop staring. About halfway through, she finally spoke, “Wow, Mel, this is top shelf. Nothing like what Roger had. My pussy is burning up. Can you imagine sharing a cock like that? It’s huge. I’ve never seen anything like it. I don’t even know how they can fuck that thing…Huge.” She laughed out loud.”
“The biggest I’ve ever seen.” Melody agreed, her laughter less convincing.
“And you’re right,” said April without looking at her friend. “The girl stuff is pretty good too, makes it more sensual.” The girls on the DVD were just as happy pleasing each other, as they were the African American. “Fuck this is good. It’s making me so horny. I can see why guys like this shit…Pause it for a second.” Melody complied. Then April said, “But this was only half of the deal. You said I could look in your drawer.”
“Now!”
“Yes, now. I need a break. That big dick has got me all frustrated. I need to cool down a bit.”
“It’s very private. And I don’t know that it will help you to cool down.”
“Come on, Mel.”
“Well okay. But you have to promise not to tell anyone.”
Rather than answer, April simply put on her most hurt expression.
Melody went to the drawer. She pulled it completely out then laid it in front of them on the large unmade bed. 
“Yummy,” said April, ogling a dildo. And what’s this? She held up a duel-sided hand mirror? Before Melody could answer, “no, let me guess. You watch yourself.”
“I use it for shaving.” Melody tried to deflect.
“Yeah, and to watch yourself. We all do, Mel. I’ve done it. And look at all this other stuff. Vibrators, dildos, lube, magazines, adult catalogues, another DVD, condoms. Condoms! What are they for, thought you said you were still a virgin?”
“I am.” Melody shyly replied.
“So?”
“It’s not important.”
April chose not to pursue the subject, preferring, instead, to finish looking through everything. It was like an adult treasure trove. “I love this side of you,” April proclaimed. “It’s like a whole new Mel.”
“You have to promise me…”
“Kiss me.” April blurted.
“What?”
“I want you to kiss me.”
“April!”
“Why not. Like who would ever know.”
“April, you’re serious.”
“Damn straight I’m serious. I want to kiss you.”
“The movie’s got you all worked up.”
“So what if it has. Kiss me.”
Melody looked at April for a long time. Her best friend. What surprised her the most, was that she really did want to kiss her best friend. Without further words being uttered, she apprehensively leant forward. April took the lead and kissed her flush on the lips. It was soft and it was good. With more passion, they kissed again.
Melody pushed the ‘play’ button. The huge screen, once more, seared with sex. Now the two girls were sharing the black man’s huge cock. Hands squeezed balls, fists pumped, saliva made it slippery, a tongue ran along the bottom side, while the other girl sucked on the large head, then they swapped. To Melody’s utter surprise, rather than after a long fuck scene, the man happily drew to orgasm and shared a massive load of creamy cum between the girls willing mouths. Then they licked up every last drop that had spilt on their cheeks and chins and necks.
April had stopped kissing Melody to watch in almost as much shock as her friend. “Do they normally do that?” she asked.
Melody slowly shock her head, “No, I mean sometimes. No, well, not like that, and not at the beginning. Sometimes, after they make love something like that might happen. Sorry. That part’s rather yuk, I know, this film is good, but it goes a little over the top.”
“Yuk! Are you kidding? That was hot.”
“Hot! You think so?” Melody replied, disbelievingly.
“Yeah, sure,” April shrugged. Doesn’t bother me; and man that cock is big. Look at it now; it’s already getting hard again. Can you believe that? I’ve never had a boyfriend recover that quickly. Imagine, Mel, wouldn’t it be cool to have a cock bounce back like that.”
“April!”
“No, seriously, Mel. It would. Some guys come way too quickly. If they were able to get it up again like that, it would be amazing. A really good fuck, that’s what us girls need.”
Instead of replying, for a while Melody nervously watched the two beautifully preened starlets taking turns to now fuck that fully-erect black cock; all the time they continued to lovingly fondle each another’s breasts and clits, and kissed like lovers.
April again took the lead.
She quietly and slowly, took Melody by the hand and gently placed it on her covered breasts.
Melody did not remove it. Instead, for a long while she softly caressed the shape of another girl’s breasts.
April loved it, and, as much as the television screen, openly watched Melody’s hand glide across her chest, then she said, “So you think I’ve got a cute bum.”
“The cutest.” Melody smiled. She was beginning to relax. 
“Would you like to see it?”
Before long, having already removed her own jeans to truly show off her cute arse still concealed in sheer silky panties, April was peeling down Melody’s chic hipsters. “Nice panties.” They were pink, lacy and even tinier than April’s; and they were pulled down too quickly for Melody to have second thoughts about what they were doing.
On seeing how well presented her friend’s pussy was, “Oh my lordie!” April exclaimed.
“The girls in the videos…” Melody attempted to explain.
“I don’t even have a Brazilian wax job like this—impressive. The guys don’t know what they’re missing out on. And it’s so pretty.” Melody had a slightly oversized clit and surprisingly symmetrical, fleshy dark pink, pussy lips. April had no hesitation in totally devouring it. At first it tickled, and Melody was in fear that the moment would be stolen. But soon the tickling subsided, replaced by overwhelming desire. Settling back on pillows, she watched as her best friend slowly eased two fingers into her tight cunt then turned them over and began to frig the upper inside of her vagina. April even paused at times, to seductively lick her fingers, before plunging them back in, frigging hard, and accompanying her action by flicking and sucking Melody’s ample clit. The ache in Melody’s stomach was immense, an orgasm building that promised to be the biggest yet. But April was not done. As horny as it was to be so close to her friend’s perfect thighs and succulent cunt, to watch her fingers getting coated in love juice, she still wanted more.
She wanted to play with the newly discovered toys.
The skillful use of a vibrator led to Melody experiencing a very fast orgasm. But that was only the beginning. After watching a little more porn, April urged Melody to return the favor.
And April swung her knees apart then shut, teasing Melody with a glimpse of her panties. “You like?”
Melody nodded.
April opened her legs again and this time placed a hand over her crotch, then she lightly smacked her pussy. “Watch,” she said, and a hand slid into her panties. Melody openly watched as her friend erotically played with herself. “Would you like to see my pussy?” April finally asked.
Melody licked her lips. Her ‘yes’ was little more than a whisper.
And April pulled aside her panties to expose her neatly trimmed pussy. As she had claimed, she did not have a brazilian wax job, but so short was her pubic hair her cunt lips were fully visible. They were not as big as Melody’s, neither was her clit, yet to Melody April’s cunt was perfection personified.
Nervously, Melody moved up the large bed. April wriggled down a little. “Go on,” she said, as her friend neared, “take off my panties.” Slowly, Melody did.
April drew her legs well apart. Melody watched, unaware how mesmerized she appeared.
“Now eat me, Mel. Please.”
Melody edged forward. She kissed her friend’s inner thighs. And then there it was, inches from her face, her best friend’s perfect little pussy, waiting to be devoured. April pushed her hips up, willing Melody to hurry and eat her.
While looking at her friend in the eyes, Melody stuck out her tongue and leant in. It was amazing to feel the soft folds of her best friend’s small labials against her wet tongue; to lick up and tease the hood of that little love button; to simply let go of all her inhibitions, and lap away on such a beautifully presented young pussy.
Later, having used a vibrator and dildo on her friend’s cunt; having patted and tickled and licked and fingered; having, for the first time in her life, felt another girls ripe tits in her hands; having actually sucked on small erect nipples; and then having shared a masturbation session while watching the black man fuck his brains out; having ended in a second orgasm—while April experienced her first—feeling mentally and physically exhausted, Melody lay on the ample bed, next to April, half-naked.
“Now that’s what I call quality sex,” said April.
Still flushed, Melody couldn’t help but grin. “Are you okay?”
“Okay! Shit Mel, I just saw a beautiful black man fuck everything in sight with his huge dick. And I just had my best friend, fuck me stupid. Yeah!” she stressed, “I think I’m okay.” She rose and started to dress.
“What about the Wayne stuff?”
April shrugged, “It’s strange, I guess, but now, after this,” meaning the girlie sex they had just experienced, “I feel all the more determined to deal with it. I’m not going to let a bunch of stupid jocks ruin my sex life. I can fight this…More importantly, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
April didn’t look terribly convinced. She was well aware that her friend had just experienced two mind-blowing orgasms, but what of her mental state, she wondered. 
“No really, I’m fine.” Melody stressed. A nervous little laugh, “Not quite a virgin, anymore, I guess.”
“Don’t think of it like that,” said April, “You’re still a virgin as far as I’m concerned. Are you having second thoughts? Do you think we shouldn’t have gone so far?”
Melody was quick. “No, nothing like that, I don’t regret any of it. I’m just a little surprised. I didn’t think I’d ever do something quite so outrageous. But, really, it was just fine; totally fine.”
“You’re not lying to me?”
“I wasn’t faking it,” she spoke of the unexpected ease of her orgasms. “I just never thought it could be so wonderful with a girl. I’m glad it was with you.”
“It doesn’t mean you’re a lesbian. You’ll still ache for a cock. There is nothing like the full feeling of a throbbing dick inside of you.”
“April!”
“Hey, look, don’t go getting all coy with me, not after what we’ve just done. You call it love making if you like, but sex is sex, and there’s nothing in the world like a hard dick. Still has to be the right guy, though, I’ll admit that much.”
“Yes, but I’ve never had a guy. What if I don’t like it? What if I really am a lesbian?”
“Mel,” and April looked at her friend, seriously, “this doesn’t make you a lesbian. How many times have you watched these films of yours?”
“A few,” Melody conceded.
“A lot more than a few, I’d say, Mel; and how many times have you gotten off while watching men and their pretty penises?”
Melody didn’t reply.
“I bet you’ve even wondered what Tony’s is like?” April mischievously teased.
“April! He’s my brother.”
“Yeah, so? And he’s as handsome as hell; and always got girls hanging around him. You must wonder at least a little. Like just curiosity stuff.”
Melody shrugged her shoulders and tried to avoid eye contact.
April took this as confirmation. “I’m betting it’s pretty,” she said, “And if you can think about his prick, and you love that black guy with his big bad dick, how can you possibly be worried that you’re a lesbian? I doubt any lesbian ever gets off on the kind of stuff you like watching. And as for being a virgin, don’t worry about it, it will happen soon enough, and I’m betting it will be just as perfect as you’ve always hoped it would be. There are special things in store for you, Melody Evans.” This time, there was no teasing meant in the use of her friend’s full name, and Melody knew it.
“You always say that,” Melody returned.
“Just you wait and see. I just know I’ll be proven right.”
Melody was dressed now and was putting away the last of her things in the bottom drawer. The last remaining item was not of an adult nature. “What’s with the bracelet?” April asked. 
“It’s nothing.”
“Secrets again,” but rather than pursue an answer, “It’s beautiful, really beautiful. You should wear it.”
Quick to change the subject, “So what are we going to do about Wayne and Clayton?” Melody asked, while stowing away the bracelet.
This time April brushed hair aside from Melody’s pretty face. “Revenge,” she calmly stated, then kissed Melody on the cheek. “I’m going to stop colouring my hair and flaunting myself…I’ve been way too obvious. From now on, there’s no little Miss. Easy.” She grinned warmly. “Perhaps if it gets too much, you’ll let me come over and watch naughty films with you.” Melody did not object. April concluded, “And maybe, only if you are okay with it, we might play a little more.” Another kiss on the cheek, “You and I are going to be just fine, I feel.”
“I know,” Melody stated confidently, “and I want to play again, and I also want to help you get your revenge.” She then thought to retrieve the bracelet from the drawer and clip it on April’s wrist. “And to mark our pact, I want you to wear this.”