Wine

The white zinfandel had been living in the back of the fridge, unopened, for two months. Lois dug it out, along with a pair of wine glasses, a sleeve of crackers, and some cheese slices. Angelica dedicated herself to finding them something to watch, and had settled on a secret favorite of the reporter's: The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.

The wine was dry, the crackers salty. Angelica Blaze was a perfect gentlewoman. No overt moves, no lingering touches as they both reached for the crackers at the same time, apparently intent with the movie. They drank with only silent toasts, clinking glasses out of formality, and laughed to the antics of Bernadette.

At no time did Angelica put on pants. Lois didn't feel comfortable getting dressed while her "guest" was naked. As the night wore on, and the temperature dropped, Lois felt her nipples harden, even though the warm flush of the **** kept the chill away.

She found herself sneaking glances down between the prostitute's thighs. It was such a perfect cock and balls. The kind that Lois had dreamed about as a young woman, the stuff of Playgirl centerfolds and fevered bouts of self-love beneath the covers, with one hand over her mouth so no one else could hear her as she imagined something filling her up, when she could barely take her own finger without it feeling like it would be too much...

The movie ended. The bottle was empty.

"You pick the next one," Angelica said. "I have to go use the little girl's room right quick."

The dickgirl didn't bother to close the door. Just stood before the toilet, raised the seat, and aimed her tool into the porcelain bowl. Lois felt the burning need of her own bladder as she flipped through the channels, one eye on her guest draining her monster, a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach.

For a moment, an image, clear and distinct came to Lois of her mouth on that cock. She shook it away, flipped to the Bride of Frankenstein, accepted the charges and queued it up to play.

The toilet flushed. Blaze came out, cock damp as though freshly cleaned. Lois smiled and took her turn. She closed the door and sat on the seat.

"What the fuck are you doing Lois?" she asked herself, but there were no answers. Just a kind of pleasant alcoholic buzz, the cool air on her skin, the calm that came with relieving her bladder. She rose, wiped, and flushed. Angelica was already opening the vodka.

"C'mon," the dickgirl said, a twinkle in her eye. "Movie's starting."