Date: Wed, 22 Sep 2004 19:41:41 -0700 (PDT)
From: ybother1122@yahoo.com
Subject: Good girl-7

DEAR NIFTY READERS,

This is a story about the sexual awakening of a young woman. If you
either; A) aren't into that, B) aren't old enough to be reading it, or
C) can't read, you should really stop here. If you liked (or hated) this
story, drop us a line at ybother1122@yahoo.com. Don't take anything you
read here too seriously, I certainly didn't.


Heather and Solique walked along the Alto Leblon beach hand in hand. The
sky clear but for bands of high, wispy clouds which cast no shadows on
the sand. The Saturday sun worshippers were everywhere and the only
sounds competing with the thud and slap of sand volleyball were the
delighted cries of children and sea birds.

"So Mr. Steven was your first?"

"Yes," said Heather, blushing mildly. "It was very sweet, all while
being scary and strange and...you know."

"And Denise gave you permission. Did she watch?"

"You are such a perv," Heather laughed. "If she was watching, I never
knew. She said it was important that it was just us by ourselves."

Solique laughed and rolled her face in the bright sunlight, "Mr. Steven
wasn't my first, but he treated me so nicely. You don't get that with
boys. They're all energy and no style."

They walked along for a while in silence, working their way through the
occasional maze of children. Heather was worried that Denise might be
right, that the girl had a crush on her. When they started walking
Solique wanted to walk arm-in-arm, but settled for holding hands with her
new American friend.

Well why not, she thought. Aside from the sex the two girls had spent a
lot of time together in the past couple of days. Despite the fact they
had nothing at all in common with each other, they had become
inseparable. Denise's words echoed in her head, anjo, and Heather was a
bit worried, what about me, do I have a crush on her?

Better to change the subject, "How did you meet Sabine?"

"I had a job at another store and she came in, this was about a year
ago," Solique said. "She said she was impressed by my style, that might
be true."


God, had it been three years since she had met Sabine? Solique remembered
it like it was just yesterday, the day that Sabine rescued her from the
dismal junk store near the beach.

The girls in the shop busied themselves with folding tee shirts and
hanging swimsuits on cheap plastic hangers. Solique, just 16 years old
then, learned early that working for a living was a dreary pursuit, and
as she looked across the small sales floor at her colleagues she could
clearly see her future. Vacant eyes of drones stared out the window as
the women worked, until the ringing of the brass bell over the swinging
entrance door alerted them to a tourist's arrival.

The shop girls waited on the gum-chewing visitors, who pawed through
shirts and postcards and flip-flop sandals. The work was a way to pass
the time, and the paycheck paid the rent as long as you had roommates,
but the dull work and the vapid chatter of her coworkers bored Solique to
tears, even though she'd only been on the job for three months.

It was summer and the air conditioning could not quite keep up with the
constant open and close of the door. Solique sat on the floor, sorting
shells and key chains in baskets. A bead of perspiration rolled slowly
from her neck, downward into her pale green tank top. She heard the bell
over the door ring, but didn't get up. She had been getting up all day,
and the tourists weren't buying a damn thing today. She didn't realize
the customer was standing behind her until she felt the cool hand on her
shoulder.

Solique was almost grateful she had been startled by the customer's
presence because she may have appeared startled upon seeing her face.
Pale skin. Eyes the color of pale pink rose petals. White hair. What the
hell? thought Solique.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you," said the customer.

"No worries. It's been slow today and I must've been daydreaming,"
Solique told her.

The customer looked around the shop and nodded. "I can see how that can
happen."

"Can I help you find something?" Solique asked. This customer was no
tourist. For starters, she wasn't speaking English. But she wasn't from
here, either, she thought. Her Portuguese was too perfect, her diction
too clear for her to be speaking in her native tongue.

"Yes, you can. I'm having a get-together this weekend. I'm hosting
friends from the United States, and the theme of the party is Carnivale.
Now, I know Carnivale was months ago, but I thought you may have some
leftover merchandise?"

Solique nodded. "It's in the store room in the back." Sabine followed
the girl to the dusty room in the rear of the store, and watched as she
climbed a ladder to reach for a dusty box from the top shelf. Sabine
admired the girl's figure for a moment. She was short but curvy and
solid. How old is she? Sabine wondered, 17 or 18 maybe? Her legs were
muscular from having to walk everywhere, and the led to a perfectly full,
round ass, something that Sabine had always felt God had cheated her from
having. Her breasts were large but firm, even without a bra, and her
nipples were noticeably, perpetually hard.

The girl had an odd look to her, with her bright green eyes and skin that
was tanned dark. Her mannerisms and speech hinted American.

She brought the box down and dropped it on the floor, ripped it open and
pulled out a white tee shirt with a bright and cheesy design silk
screened on the front.

"Perfect," Sabine said, laughing. "How many are in the box?"

"Ummm...24."

"I'll take it."

"The whole box?"

"I have a lot of guests arriving."

Solique hauled the box out to the cash register, and added up the
customer's bill.

"Your necklace," Sabine said, derailing Solique's train of thought.
"It's beautiful. Where did you get it?"

"My aunt sent it to me. My mother's sister lives in the United
States," she said, running her fingers over the turquoise and sterling
bauble that rested on against her breastbone.

Sabine reached out to touch it, tracing it with a long and slender
finger, letting her fingertip stray away from the necklace and land at
between the girl's breasts.

"Yes, it's very beautiful indeed. You have great style," Sabine said.
"You're very good at your job, aren't you?"

"Oh I don't know," Solique said with a shrug.

"I can tell you are. But this place is not for you. You should come work
for me. I have a shop on Rua Visconde de Piraja. Pretty clothes. Fine
jewelry. Wealthy customers. They'd love you."

Solique shook her head. "Bus fare can get a little expensive if I have
to ride every day."

"I pay a generous base, and the commissions are better. You could afford
a flat close to work."

"Hmmmm. Well maybe," Solique thought of having her own place.

"No maybe about it. You can start Monday, if you don't mind not giving
notice here."

Solique thought about the gum chewers and the flip flops and the sad,
bored shop girls and the run-down air conditioner. "Hell no. Let's
go."

She grabbed the box of tee shirts, headed out the door with Sabine,
turned the "Open" sign around to show "Closed" in the window, locked
the door and slipped the key into the mail slot.

"My driver will take you home," Sabine said, pointing to her car as she
got in the back seat.

But Solique didn't stay at her apartment for long. In fact it took all
of seven minutes for her to gather her jewelry, clothing, and postcards
from her mother in Arizona, throw them into pillow cases and get out of
her apartment. In the car, Sabine had offered her a big enough pay
advance for Solique to leave her share of the next month's rent on the
counter, along with a quick note to tell the three girls she roomed with
that she was moving out. "Keep my lamps and help yourself to the cheese
and colas I left in the fridge," she wrote, and left her key and cash on
top of the note.

Sabine had convinced her, rather easily, that she would be comfortable at
the Maas household on the beach. She could ride into Ipanema to work with
her driver, Jaime, and could quickly save up for the deposit on her new
flat, and some acceptable clothing to wear to work. It was an easy sell.


The house is amazing, thought Solique. Large and bright and white with
big windows and beach views and beautiful people tending to managing the
household. Her room was comfortable and impeccably decorated.

She spent the first day at the Maas household sleeping. She hadn't
realized how much life was drained out of her at the tourist shop. It
wasn't so much that work was hard. It wasn't. It was just a lack of
hope that exhausted Solique.

The following day, Solique got a ride into town with Jaime, a beautiful
dark-haired boy who worked for Sabine, and shopped for some clothing to
get her through her first week at her new job. Sabine had already called
the store to let the employees know she was to receive the full employee
discount on her purchases and it was alright to extend credit, if
necessary.

When she returned to the house, it had already begun to fill with
visitors from America. They were gorgeous, thought Solique, every last
one of them. There were perhaps 15 people laughing and cocktailing and
relaxing throughout the house.

Solique went into the kitchen to get a glass of wine and was introduced
to a half dozen guests standing on the gray tile near the refrigerator.

"This is my newest houseguest, Solique. Isn't she just delightful?"
Sabine said with a proud smile.

The visitors examined her, and hugged her, holding her a little longer
than Solique thought normal. The women stroked her hair and kissed her
full on the mouth when they greeted her, and the men let a hand wander to
rest on her ass when they hugged her.

"I'm going to head upstairs and freshen up," Solique told her hostess
and employer.

Sabine gave her one of the tacky Carnivale tee shirts, and told her that
was the uniform for the evening -- all the guests would be wearing theirs
tonight -- and kissed her cheek.

"Enjoy your shower," she said with smile.

Americans are strange, thought Solique, and with a smile took her wine
glass up the stairs to her room.

She threw her packages on the bed, and opened the door between her
bedroom and the attached bathroom. She gasped when she saw the man,
dripping wet and reaching for a towel, standing in her tub.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" Solique turned away quickly and thought she'd melt
into the floor.

The man didn't seem offended at all, and laughed as he said, "It's OK.
I hope I didn't startle you. I'm Steven."

Assuming he must have wrapped his towel around himself, Solique turned
around to introduce herself. She was wrong. He was still standing there,
nude and wet and unwrapped and stunning.

"I--I'm Solique," she said, staring at the floor.

"Pleasure to meet you, Solique," said Steven, extending his hand to
her. The word "pleasure" fell out of his mouth with a certain
convincing quality that made Solique wonder why meeting her was so
pleasurable. She reached for his hand to give him a polite handshake, but
wondered, what is the etiquette for shaking hands with a nude stranger?

Sabine was right, thought Steven. The girl is impressive indeed. He
wondered if Sabine was also right about her willingness to fully
participate in the coming weekend's activities. Did she know what kind
of company Sabine kept? Or was this just a wicked surprise?

"Oh fuck that," Steven said, and wrapped his arms around Solique,
soaking her tee shirt during the embrace. But Solique didn't pull away.
She should have, she thought, but she didn't. Who IS this man? And why
is he naked and holding me like this?

When he let go, Solique pulled away.

"I ummmm...I should hop in the shower. I've been shopping and I feel
dusty and it's really nice to meet you. See you in a bit."

But he didn't leave.

"Don't shower."

"What?"

"Don't shower. It'll be more fun that way."

"WHAT will be more fun?"

"This will," he said, as he lifted her from the floor and carried her
to the bed. He tossed her onto the bed, pushed the packages onto the
floor and lay on top of her.

"Very nice to meet you Solique," he said, before covering her mouth
with an urgent kiss. She didn't stop him. His mouth, his hands on her
body, his weight, his already stiff cock -- they all felt too good to
tell him to stop.

No, Steven thought, the girl didn't know what was in store for her, but
he was about to give her a taste of it. She was ready. And he was
delighted that she was.

This was far different than the fumbling groping disappointing
experiences Solique had with the boy she met last spring, the only lover
she'd ever had. No, this man knew what he wanted and it was her. And he
knew how to get it. All he had to do was take it, she thought.

With one hand he had unbuttoned her shorts. He rose to slip them off her,
and pulled her tee shirt off over her head, like a father undressing a
little girl. He pushed her shoulders back against the mattress and pushed
his chest hard against hers while he pressed his lips firmly on her
mouth.

"Steven," she said at the same moment he slipped his impressive cock
inside her. "Steven stop. The door is open."

"I don't care."

The way he said it made her believe him. She felt it, the heat. She was
right there with him. If I don't fuck you right this minute I'll
explode, she thought, and she ignored the open door, and she ignored the
people who walked past in the hallway, some stopping to look inside for a
moment, and lost herself in the moment. Yes, yes, yes, she thought. This
is no boy. This is a man.

His breath on her neck, the stubble on his face, the delicious weight of
his body covering her -- it was more than she could bear. She had never
felt this kind of heat before -- without shame, without formality,
without even knowing who he was -- she knew she must have him.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close toward her.
With every thrust inside her, the heat intensified. She pulled her hips
off the bed to press closer to him, trying to pull him as deep inside her
as she could, but no matter how hard she pulled, she wanted more.

She was only vaguely aware of her screaming before she climaxed. Oh yes,
Steven. Yes, yes, yesssssssssss. She didn't stop until she felt him cum
with a hard thrust and shudder and moan.

He lay on her, breathing hard and slick with sweat for just a moment,
before rising from the bed and asking, "How `bout I help you with that
shower now?" She laughed and went into the bathroom, with Steven
following close behind her.


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