Sexual Healing – Part Two by Sympathy For The Devil

“Do you really mean to seduce her, ‘bunch?” he’d whispered after she’d confessed her letch. His pet name for her was short for”Honeybunch.””I want to make her dizzy with pleasure,” she’d breathed back and nipped his nipple lightly with her teeth. “I crave her, darling. I’m sorry — are you jealous?”

She’d felt his shrug. “I should be, but I’m not. If you were talking about a man, I’d be in a rage, but since it’s a woman, it — it doesn’t threaten me.”

“Or turn you on?”

“Is she sexy and sassy like you?”

“Not at all — but she is a bombshell. You might like her.”

He’d snorted. “I like you a little. Why wander?”

“You call this ‘a little’? Let me show you what I like best…”

* * *

Watching Kimberly warming down after dance class, Connie again was astonished at the younger woman’s physique. Seen from the back, Kim was a perfect hourglass shape — good firm shoulders, a smooth back tapering to a tiny waist that Connie suspected wasn’t more than 22 inches around, then the sudden flare in ripe hips and firm, rounded buttocks. Yet Kim’s thighs didn’t quite meet at the top.

She forced herself to stop staring — but not immediately. Kim was turning slightly, swinging her arms loosely. The rich masses of reddish blonde hair, now channeled into a ponytail by the pretty blue band, swung vivaciously in counterpoint to the sweep of her arms and the rise of her magnificent breasts.

Why didn’t I get tits like that? Connie asked herself.

Confined by the white tights and blue spandex leotard — and, probably, by a workout bra — Kim’s breasts were the shape of half-grapefruits…but larger. Her ribcage was beautifully defined, even through the layers of cloth, and beneath it was the sudden flatness of her hard young stomach. There was the barest hint of a rounding in her lower abdomen, and then the sudden prominence of her pubis. In profile, her legs were breath-taking and seemed almost over-long for her height.

Some flaw, thought Connie, with some envy.

Kim turned abruptly and saw Connie watching her. Their gazes met and Connie wondered if even the workout bra she wore would conceal its true purpose — to keep any stiffening of her nipples from showing.

Connie smiled and Kim returned it. Connie walked over to her and said, “I like watching you warm down. You have a marvelous, natural grace about you.”

“Thank you!” Her smile was quite total, involving her entire face. “It’s always nice to be complimented by the teacher.”

“I like to get to know the people in my class,” Connie said glibly. “This should be social, as well as healthy. After class some night, let’s you and I go out somewhere for some coffee or wine.”

“Okay! When?”

“Anytime,” Connie said.

“How about now? I’ll get my stuff, if you’re ready.”

Connie felt a tingle in her breasts and belly when Kim looked directly into her eyes. “Sounds fine. Let me get my stuff and check out the doors and lights.” Most of the other students were already waving their good-byes. “Only be a minute.”

As she secured the studio room — it was part of a larger health club complex, itself a part of a megamall — Connie again reviewed what she knew about Kim. Twenty-five, no wedding ring, attended to keep herself limber and in shape, and she worked as a public relations assistant for a large wine and spirit importer in New York. She’d moved into the area from the Midwest a few months before. Her emergency notification phone number was in Wisconsin and the name to be notified was her mother’s.

Kim was waiting just outside the door of the club. A trenchcoat, held loosely closed by the belt, couldn’t conceal her shapely, blue spandex-covered legs. Male passers-by inevitably looked her over. So did a few women.

“Got any place in particular in mind?” Connie asked. She carried her battered old gym bag in her left hand as they strolled past the Allstate office and Waldenbooks toward the mall exit.

“To tell the truth, I’m low on cash so I wondered if you’d mind if we just– ”

Connie was more than willing to offer a loan.

” — went back to my place. I some lovely wines.”

“Sounds fine to me,” Connie managed to say calmly. “Wait for me by the front entrance to the lot and I’ll follow you.”

“Little green Stanza,” Kim said as they stepped out into the chill January night.

Connie hurried to the far end of the lot. As an employee, she had to park in the distant, reserved area. She gunned the engine to speed the heater and hurried to her rendezvous. A green Stanza sat near the Burger King. Connie flashed her headlights and Kim beeped in response, then pulled onto Route 17. Connie followed.

It was a quick and seamless drive to the low-rise apartmentcomplex. Connie pulled into a space beside Kim’s car.

“This way,” Kim said, taking her neat little gym bag from the back seat and hoisting a larger, canvas tote bag from the floor. Connie heard glass clinking as Kim said, “More samples of my wares.”

I’m looking forward to sampling your wares, Connie thought, but said nothing except offering to help.

“I’m used to lugging this stuff, but thanks.” They walked briskly through a quickening wind to the nearest entrance, then up two flights of carpeted stairs to Kim’s door.

The apartment was compact, little more than a studio with an alcove for the dining area, a walk-through to the kitchen and a door opening onto the room containing the —

— bed, upon which Connie focused immediately. She noted how neat everything was — except for a pile of dishes and pots in the sink and a mass of miscellaneous magazines and newspapers stacked on the low marble coffee table in front of a Tuxedo-style leather couch.

“I hate housework,” Kim said, by way of apology.

“It’s not my idea of a good time, either,” Connie offered. “Having two of us helps — ”

“Your husband? You mean he helps?”

“We share everything we can,” Connie said, and had troublebelieving she’d uttered what — to her — was a blatant double entendre.

“I wish my husband was like that,” Kim muttered.

“I thought you weren’t married,” Connie protested as they shucked their coats.

“In fact, I’m not,” Kim said, turning to face her ballet teacher. “In fact.” She took Connie’s coat and hung it in the small, foyer closet. “Legally, I’m still married. We started our ‘trial separation’ about ten months ago.”

Connie couldn’t resist openly ogling Kim’s form in the tight workout attire. “Much to the delight of men, everywhere.”

“Please! Don’t get me started!” Kim said, throwing up her hands in theatrical display. “Coffee?”

“Got anything stronger?”

Kim smiled. “No problem-o.” She opened a cabinet, revealing bottles and glasses. She bent and wrote something on a notepad, then turned to say, “I rented the place furnished, including the booze. When they come back from their round-the-world cruise, I want to have everything exactly as they left it — right down to the last drop of liquor. So I keep track. Your choice?”

Connie was thinking that her choice would have been Kim, but simply said, “How about one of your wines?”

Kim beamed. “I’m always looking for someone to experiment on. Any preferences? I have some lovely ports.”

Connie couldn’t believe Kim had said that, but pretended not to catch the double-entendre — for a moment. “I bet you hear that a lot from the guys.”

Kim’s response was something more than a giggle, something less than a chuckle. Connie thought of it as a tinkling. “You wouldn’t believe!”

“Try me.”

Kim selected a bottle and uncorked it as she replied: “A lot of the buyers in the smaller stores in the city are…well, they aren’teducated, formally. A lot of them come from blue-collar backgrounds and haven’t really …”

“‘Evolved’?”

“Exactly.” Two glasses appeared and Kim poured two fingers of the port into each. The fragrance was almost intoxicating — rich and heavy. “So there’s this kind of required tradition that every guy make some comment or pass, just to prove he’s one of the boys.”

Connie took the proferred glass. “With the emphasis on ‘boys.'”

“You know the type, I bet. C’mon.” She motioned for Connie to precede her into the living room. The furnishings looked like they’d been coordinated by the store decorator at Levitz. The leather sofabed and loveseat, the occasional tables, the lamps, the drapes — even the paintings — could have been purchased as a set on the showroom floor. Everything worked, but without personality.

Connie sat on the loveseat and Kim flumped down on the sofa, at a right angle to Connie. She held up the glass and swirled the port gracefully in the glass, examining the rivulets that settled back to the bottom. “Hmmmm, good legs.”

“You should talk.”

Both laughed and sipped. “Where was I?” Kim asked.

“‘Boys.'”

“Oh, right — Well, once word got around that I was separated, and happy to be, I couldn’t go into an office without someone hitting on me. Some less subtly than others. I had a guy today — I still can’t believe it.” She drank more of her port.

“Don’t leave me in suspense,” Connie pleaded.

“Guy’s about fifty years old, got a paunch that looks like a basketball sitting on his belt and enough nose hair to sweep thestoreroom.”

Connie laughed loud and hard, and knew that her appreciation was partly the exaggerated effect of the mouthful of port. Since meeting Jerry, she seldom drank — he was a recovering alcoholic — and it didn’t take much to get her buzzed.

Her laughter set Kim to chuckling, too. “So we’re in the storeroom and I’m inventorying his stock on a couple of my lines and I have to kind of bend over some boxes. I’m wearing this denim skirt, about knee-length and a little snug and I feel it creeping up. And he’s gotten very quiet, when usually he’s motor-mouth on overdrive. So I look back and see him standing there with his mouth open, staring at my ass through the tight, short skirt and rubbing his — his — ”

“Dick.”

“– right, his dick, through his pants!”

“What’d you do — smack him?” Connie drank some more port.

“First thing I did was try to get calm. This is a big account. The next thing I did was curse my luck.”