Move To A Private Room

Breathing a little heavy, Ella Lane tore herself from her daughter and stood up, offering the younger woman her hand. Confused, aroused, blushing and panting, Lois slid her slim hand into her mother's own and let her be raised to her feet. The older woman slid her other hand around Lois' waist, hugging her hip.

"Let's go somewhere private...away from prying eyes..." Ella panted. "Where we can...talk."

Lois followed her mother's lead dumbly, though she was certain the old woman didn't want to do much talking. Thoughts swirled around her head and Lois realized she must be tipsy...from the heat, the ****, or her mother's advances...her mother! Dead these last fifteen years and now back, with Lois her...what? Payment to a demon? Then that kiss... It was fantastic, impossible...

Such were the thoughts that ran through the reporter's head as the two women, weaving gently and clinging to one another, passed through red curtains and a door, which Ella shut behind them and locked with an audible click. Lois stared around at a...a boudoir.

The room was snug, barely large enough for the round bed in the center, and festooned with red silk that hung tent-like from the sole red lamp set in the ceiling. The lamp and the darkness gave everything an intimate appearance...like the blanket-forts that Lois had set up in the living room when she was a little girl.

Ella's hands, warm, bony, and strong, slipped onto her daughter's bare shoulders. The fingers began to work against the pale flesh in the red light, a gentle massage, the thumbs pressing into the muscles of the reporter's back, forcing her to relax.

"Oh Lois..." Ella's hands wandered lower, thumbs rubbing on either side of Lois' spine. "I've missed you...you have no idea. I so wanted to see you grow up...to tell you all the things that...that a woman needs to know. To see you like this..."

The strong bony hands suddenly crept along Lois' ribs, to seize on her breasts, nipples popping out hard and erect between the thin fingers...and Ella drew her daughter to her, until her own breasts pressed into Lois' back. "I have so much to show you." The older woman whispered, hugging her close...and Lois could have cried right then, because it was just the same voice as the last time her mother had held her, all those years ago.

But then Lois had been a child. Now she was a grown woman...and now her mother had released her right breast, that thin arm sliding down the reporter's smooth belly, fingers pressing at the waistband of her pants...