Athena's Story Ch 11

The rug isn’t bearskin, and Sal is drunk. That doesn’t matter. The roaring fire is still only the second hottest thing in Irina Orlova’s cavernous parlor.

Sal is surrounded on the rug, body heat and perfume going straight to her head to intensify the effects of the liquor.

“It’s the stuff that doesn’t get talked about that’s the worst,” Sal reflects, eying the yellow liquid in her glass. “I mean, I guess I can’t put our business out there, but a funny example is a strap-on. She likes it. I mean, really likes it, but she won’t say it or ask me to do it. And I don’t really love doing it, so I don’t bring it up. So there’s this thing that she likes, and if she’s happy, I’m happy, but it almost never happens. And, I mean, we’re tired, and you have to clean it and stuff, and there’s real life happening. Imagine that, but then like apply it to stuff that actually matters. Really important stuff that just doesn’t get brought up. And that’s… I don’t know. Do you know what I mean?”

Irina is on her right. Cosette and Sasha are on her left. It’s chilly, so the firelight and the cozy company are essential. Irina looks profoundly understanding, and so does Cosette.

“We have all been there,” Cosette says, clinking glasses.

Sal will not remember who kissed her first, but it was probably Cosette. There was never any stopping it once the bottle of Scotch was opened, but now it seems especially hopeless. The tender softness of these three women seems like the only balm for the tension and pressure that Sal has felt since embarking on this campaign with Dulcita and Annette. Athena’s personality shift since being laid off has brought a prickliness to everything that’s all the more noticeable now that Sal is far away from it.

Firelight makes bare skin exponentially more erotic, and Irina, her daughter, and Cosette had seductiveness to spare in the first place. Sal will go to the mat to argue that Scotch is objectively disgusting, but when it’s on the lips of a beautiful woman, that’s different.

There’s nothing to be gained from keeping track of the details, like whose clothes are where or whose hand that is. But Sal can’t help it. It’s Sasha’s hand gently squeezing her breast, Irina’s fingers sliding her underwear down, and Cosette’s mouth leaving ticklish little kisses on her neck.

Cosette breaks off a kiss so sweet that Sal wants to touch herself, only for an amused Sasha to move in and take it over, running her hands through Sal’s hair. She’s dizzy when she comes up for air. “You guys do this a lot?” she asks breathlessly.

Irina moves Sal’s hands to her body, and Sal remembers her pride. She kisses the older Russian woman and gets her bra off, pushing her down with a firm kiss combined with a hand sliding up her body to her breast.

Cosette and Sasha pull her off; they don’t want her to be in charge. The last of the clothes are finding their way to the floor. Sal watches Irina slip her panties off, revealing everything smooth, taut, and bare in contrast with Cosette’s dark and shockingly abundant bush. Sal wants to put her face between Cosette’s legs so bad that it hurts, but she’s not doing anything that Sasha doesn’t want her to. Sasha is behind her, her breath on Sal’s neck, and her thumbs and forefingers on her nipples. Sasha might as well be a puppeteer and Sal could be dancing on strings.

Irina stands up and walks out of the firelight into the dark, a vision of pure erotic femininity. Cosette is on her hands and knees in front of Sal, who is intensely conscious of how wet she is. But Cosette isn’t taking her to heaven. She kisses Sal’s stomach and makes her way up, not down. Her hair tickles her skin.

Sal gasps and leans her head back. Sasha kisses her with lots of tongue. Cosette reaches them and joins, her hand sliding between Sal’s legs, but it’s only to torture her. Her fingertips brush her upper thighs where the flesh is wet and sensitive, but leave her desperate folds alone.

Sasha catches Sal’s sneaky hand and guides it instead between her legs. Sal moans and has no choice but to cooperate. Sasha gasps in Sal’s face at the touch, and Sal’s heart beats out of her chest. She has to make this pretty young woman cum.

Irina returns, the strap she wears catching the firelight. Sal can only gasp and stare. Sasha supports her from behind, and Cosette spreads Sal’s legs.

“It’s your turn,” Irina says as she kneels.

Sal’s breath comes out staggered as Cosette enters her, hugs her, and lowers her to the rug. With Irina’s strap inside her, Cosette’s tongue in her mouth, and Sasha’s fingers in her hair, Sal can’t pretend to have dignity.

“There. Don’t stop.” It’s a desperate, breathless whisper that doesn’t even sound like Sal. Her fingernails scrape Irina’s back, and their breasts mashed together feel so good that it adds an extra layer of panic. Sal is in serious danger of wetting herself, but all things are out of her hands now. “There. Yes. Yes. Oh my god.” She kisses Irina, then buries her face in her neck and moans.

They’re gentle until they feel it start. At the first jerk of Sal’s body, Cosette bites her lip and Sasha twists her nipples. Sal screams and bucks like she never has before, with anyone.

ATHENA

Athena checks the time and scowls. She lies on the bed in nice underwear. Her hair and makeup are done. Her vibrator is beside her. Her legs are crossed at the ankles, painted toes dancing around restlessly. She blinks several times and starts scrolling again.

Sal’s call is long overdue. Not even a text. Two hours ago, Athena couldn’t wait to tell Sal about the massage. It’ll be such a turn-on for her. For the first time, she was excited about frisky Facetime. She chews her lip. The call is way too long overdue. She’s in denial. Sal is not calling tonight. Should she call Sal? Or just go to bed?

[ There is an update on Patreon with a story, free for everyone if you care about that stuff: https://www.patreon.com/cw/CCLViking And there’s also a recent blog post on vfuniverse.org about F-Files if you care about *that* stuff. ]