Date: Mon, 1 Dec 2003 14:06:40 -0800 (PST)
From: Jessica Felder <eroticladywriter@yahoo.com>
Subject: seatmates 2 lesbian encounters

			     Seatmates By Rita

  This is the second part to seatmates, my co writer from the first
seatmates wrote this one by herself.  Hope you all enjoy it as much as I
did...Jessi

The divorce had been especially painful for Jessi. From the time she stood
at the altar, the train of her white gown flowing down the steps to the
congregation, that she was the one who was lying.

Here she was, giving herself to this man, promising fidelity through
whatever life had to send their way, and she knew in her heart that he
could never give her everything she needed. No man could.

Yet, she had worked so hard at making the marriage a success. So many of
her passions were pushed aside for him. She gave herself only to
him. Willingly. Eagerly. Always holding to the notion that this is the way
things should be.

And then she got the letter. He didn't even have the courage to confront
her directly. A god dam letter. While he was on a business trip. "Dear
Jessi." The asshole could have just written "Dear John" and stopped with
that.

"Dear Jessi. I don't know how to say this. You've been everything to
me. But everything you have just isn't enough. I'm not happy, and I don't
think you are happy. I love you, but I need more. I need passion. I need a
full commitment. And you just aren't able to give that. It's not your
fault.

It's not mine. It just is. Yes, I've met someone else. But she isn't the
cause of this. She just made me realize that we both need to move on, to be
true to our hearts. So, I'm writing to you, asking for a divorce, and
asking that we can do this from love, not let ourselves give in to spite
and meanness. Love, Michael"

She stuffed the letter in her purse, and there it stayed. Through the
mundane everyday trips, through the nights out with friends, crying until
she could cry no more, and during that plane trip.

Oh, my. The plane trip. Rita. Was she real? Or was it just a dream? What
Jessi did know was that the dream kept recurring. The nights alone in her
bed, she could still smell Rita's perfume. It wasn't Jessi's hand that slid
under her pajamas, slowly drawing tight circles around her pussy, applying
more and more pressure with each pass, letting her finger push up against
her clitoris until she was so wet. That was Rita.

The dreams were a release. An escape from the day-to-day. Jessi was
successful in her job, but success brought with it envy, especially from
other women. The irony, thought Jessi. I want them, and they just want to
get me.

Thursday was no different than all the days that had come before, since
Michael's letter had arrived. Up in the morning. Shower. On this day,
letting the hot water run over her, the steam building. A bar of soap, in
its last days of purpose, now small enough to slide up her thigh. Jessi's
left hand massaging a soapy breast, her nipple growing erect. Her right
hand guiding the bar of soap up her leg, into her, pushing against her,
sliding so effortlessly in and out. The spasm began in her knees, spread up
her legs, the muscles grew taut in her ass, and her orgasm sent shivers
through her entire body.

She dressed, amused that her lover was a bar of soap. Happy that it was
there. And off to work.

The day was hectic, but then they all are in this job. It wasn't until 6:30
came that Jessi realized she had been at it all day without a break. Only
coffee since her breakfast of a pear and juice.

Suddenly she was famished.

Tonight it was time for a treat. A favorite French restaurant, just one
block from the office. The chill of a winter's night felt good during the
short walk. Eating alone always had made Jessi self- conscious. No
longer. Fuck them. It was her treat. She always carried a book to read in
her briefcase. The luxury of eating good food, sipping great wine and
enjoying a book far surpassed any imagined embarrassment of being alone.

Besides, Jessi knew that she was a knockout. People didn't look at her with
pity. They looked at her with envy and desire. And if they were desirous
enough, sometimes Jessi would turn in her chair just ever so slightly,
cross her right leg over her left, and let her skirt ride up just a bit too
far.

Enough to make sure that desire burned in the men -- and some women -- who
were there as couples.

Jessi took her seat at the table, ordered a nice Pinot Noir, and pulled out
her book. As the waiter delivered the wine, Jess looked up...and saw the
woman two tables over. "Oh my god," she thought. Rita.

Unmistakably Rita, even though she had only her profile turned to
Jessi. The long legs, sleek under shimmering hose. The immaculately
tailored suit, a stylish gray chalk stripe. And the auburn hair. The
gorgeous, auburn hair.

Rita was engaged in a very animated discussion with her tablemate, another
woman. She would gesture. Stop, allowing the other woman to have her say,
then take off again.

Jess watched with amusement, and a sense of longing that she could share
that conversation. If it were me, Rita wouldn't be talking business, as
Jessi surmised she was. We would be talking about things that matter,
thought, Jessi. Things that move the soul. We would be talk about dreams
that come true, even if only one person has the dream. Or did we both dream
it?  Ahhh, the dream. A late night flight, both Jessi and Rita seated in
the last row of first class. Jessi working on a computer, crafting another
delicious erotic story for her Internet fans one of whom, it turned out,
was Rita. And, as one thing lead to another, a tryst in the darkened plane,
under a blanket, out of the gaze of all except maybe that one man. Falling
asleep in each other's arms until the pilot announced the approach for
landing. And then the good-byes, a promise to call, but not really knowing
if Jessi should call to say she had this dream about Rita, or to say,
"Rita, we were hot, weren't we?"

And now here they are, in a restaurant. Rita with another woman, a business
dinner, probably.

And Jessi sharing a glass of wine with her book, winding down a day that
began with Dove lovemaking. Jessi was smiling. Life was funny. So funny,
she almost didn't feel the hand on her shoulder.

"It is you, isn't it?" asked Rita, standing over Jessi. "I heard a tiny
laugh, and knew exactly who it had come from. And sure enough, here you
are. I can't believe it."

"Hello, Rita," said Jessi. "It is a small world, isn't it? What are you
doing here?"

"Well, I was doing business earlier today. But that part of the day is
gone, and my business is now myself. Look, we've already had dinner, but
won't you join us at our table. It will give us an excuse to have another
glass of wine and maybe that sinful flourless chocolate cake."

"Oh, I don't want to interrupt you, Rita. You seem to be so engaged with
your companion. I would feel like I was intruding."

"Nonsense. I'll move your wine, you take your book and bag, and join us,
Please." With that, Rita picked up Jessi's glass of wine, turned on her
three-inch heel and in a few strides of her long legs was at her table.

Rita already was into her introduction when Jessi reached the
table. "...and Michelle, this is Jessi."

Michelle laughed. "Slow down, Rita. And hello," she said, extending her
hand. "It's Jessi, right?  I'm Michelle, a friend of our non-stop Rita."

Jessi sat down and, for the first time, had a good look at Michelle. She
was about the same age as Jessi and Rita, late 20s. Blonde, with lovely
blue eyes. And gorgeous. In fact, the three of them, sitting at one table,
set a standard for beauty that the restaurant -- or any restaurant in town
-- would be hard-pressed to meet for years and years to come. Three very
attractive, very engaging and very sensual women.

"Every man is this restaurant just got a hard-on when the three of us sat
down," said Rita. "And some of the women are feeling a bit frisky, too, I
bet," she said, laughing loudly.

Jessi and Michelle couldn't help but laugh. The thing about truly
attractive and confident women is this. They know they are attractive. They
know they turn heads. And they are comfortable with that. Their physical
appeal doesn't define them. It simply is.

"So, what were you two talking about? I couldn't help but notice a lot of
hand-waving and intense conversation," asked Jessi.

"Well," said Rita, "we were talking about the same thing we always
discuss. Sex. And why sex between women is so much better than anything
else?"

"Oh, come on. I had a pretty good bar of soap this morning." When Michelle
and Rita stared at Jessi, she laughed. "I've been on my own for the past
few weeks. Husband decided that he couldn't compete with me, couldn't not
compete with me and couldn't just decide not to play the game. So he
left. And this morning, my worn-down bar of Dove became my very hard -- if
a bit small -- lover. And you know what? I've had a lot of lovers who never
felt that good. Oh, God, I hate to admit it, but that little bar of Dove
almost brought me to my knees."

Rita and Michelle were laughing so hard, that Jessi could feel herself grow
flush with embarrassment. "Well, I don't fuck myself with soap all the
time. It's just that..."

"Oh, Jessi, I'm sorry," said Rita. "We weren't making fun of you. In fact,
we're laughing because that's exactly the conversation we were having. Best
lovemaking without a penis. And yours fits right in."

"Oh, that's great," said Jess. "So what do you want to share with me, since
it appears that penis- less I shall be for awhile? Maybe forever after that
jerk."

"Oh, my favorite is this," said Michelle. "In my bedroom I have a big...and
I mean really big...overstuffed leather chair. The leather is so worn and
so soft that you just sink right into it.

And my chair faces a window that overlooks a wooded area. And during the
winter months, when the sun is low in the sky, at about 4 o'clock, the
setting sun just shines through that window and embraces the entire
chair. It can be the coldest day of winter, but the sun on that leather
chair is so very cozy.

"And sometimes, when I'm lonely or sometimes when I just need to lose
myself in my thoughts, I put on some Mozart, and wait in my chair for the
sun to take all of me. I wrap myself in my terry robe. I start with my
finger just playing around my right nipple. That's my sensitive one. And as
my left hand works that nipple, drawing it up to an amazing state of
arousal, my right hand slides down my stomach, feeling the sun's warmth on
me, pausing for just a moment to let the first wave of excitement from my
breast work its way through my body, and then my hand moves lower.

Feeling first for the now wet and soft place where my pussy meets my ass,
touching it, pulling on it with my fingernails, playing with it so
luxuriously.

"My eyes are closed, soaking in the sound of Mozart, the warmth of my sun,
the feel of my terry robe, the touch of the leather against my exposed legs
and arms. And it draws my finger up, slowly, touching my lips gently, and
then pushing in, against me, in circles on my clitoris. The sun feels so
warm now. Hot. The music soothing. My breast feeling every pass of my hand
across my so hard nipple.

"And as the music crescendos, so do I. It lifts my ass off the chair,
pushing me into my finger, my stomach against the heel of my hand. And then
it just explodes. I mean everything. At once. Until I fall back, pull that
soft terry around me and just let the last rays of sun be my gentle lover
who has only a short time before she must go."

"Oh my god."

The three women broke their reverie to see an embarrassed waiter --
embarrassed both by the exclamation that came from his unguarded mouth and
the mound in his pants that betrayed his thoughts -- standing at their
table.

"I'm so sorry for interrupting," he stammered. "I just wanted to know if
the lady would like to order."

Rita, Jessi and Michelle looked at him, and broke out laughing. Causing his
embarrassment to grow deeper and, in at least one way, larger.

"Yes," said Jessi. "Do you have anything in a leather chair?" Their
laughter sent him scurrying to the kitchen, and, no doubt to the
washroom. If ever the charge to employees to wash their hands after using
the restroom meant anything, the three hoped that this was the time.

"And what about you, Rita?" asked Michelle. "What is your sexiest moment?"

"Well, there have been certain plane rides that caused a chill or two,"
said Rita, placing her hand on Jessi's arm. "But I'll save that for another
time. My story tonight is my first time, and still one of my sexiest.

"I was in college. My roommate and I went to a party. We knew it wouldn't
be much fun. Boys trying to get in our pants, drinking until they were
peeing in their pants...the usual college thing.

"Anyway, this party was at a fraternity house. Kathy -- that was her name
-- and I thought most of the party was stupid. So we were being
silly. Poking our heads into the different rooms. Seeing what was
there. And we came upon one room that no one was in. But neatly lined up
across a shelf was an amazing collection of pornographic videotapes. Lots
of them. Well, of course, Kathy and I though he wouldn't miss one or two,
so we just grabbed a couple and decided to go back to our dorm room.

"It turns out that neither of us had really seen a porn flick. Nothing like
this anyway. So we opened a bottle of wine, put it into the VCR and got it
going. And I'll tell you, God was smiling on us. This wasn't the hardcore
kind of smut that I've seen since then. This was a pretty well done piece
of erotic video. The women were real people, not just holes to fuck. And as
we both lay on our beds, drinking our wine, watching this movie, I was
getting more than a little wet. Now remember, we were in our dorm rooms, so
we had single beds, desks and some chest of drawers. That was about it. So
Kathy was on her bed and I was in mine.

"And as I watched in our dark room, I couldn't help myself. My hand was in
my panties by scene two. And feeling damn nice. But I have to admit that I
was a bit shy about it. After all, masturbating to a porn flick? Come
on. So I stopped to watch the movie. And damned if over the heavy breathing
on the TV I didn't hear heavy breathing from Kathy's bed. And when the
light from the TV was at its brightest, it looked as if Kathy had pulled
her skirt up and was enjoying herself.

"Now by this time, I've had a lot to drink. So much to drink that I did
what I had wanted to do for a long time. I stood, undressed down to my
panties, and got into Kathy's bed. And you know what she did? It was as if
we had been there forever. She pushed me onto my back, slid down me just a
little, wrapped her gorgeous lips around my nipple, and sucked and played
and licked and gave me an orgasm just like that.

"And then she really got started. She straddled me, still wearing her
skirt, and placed my hands on her hips, one on each side. And with her
hands, she guided me down her legs, pulling her skirt with my hands,
rocking back onto her ass so her skirt could slide over her knees, and off
her feet.

And then she kneeled back over me, this time took just my thumbs, hooked
them into her panties, and did the same thing, rocking back so the panties
could come off her, then back over me. But this time she slid up over me,
letting her pussy hair just brush my now very erect nipples. Staying there
long enough to finger herself, still rocking and rolling on my breasts, and
then taking her very wet finger and dragging it across my lips and onto my
tongue.

"Nothing I had ever tasted was so sweet. And Kathy knew that. She pushed up
over me, holding herself just barely over my lips. And I knew just what to
do. As Kathy braced herself against the wall with her hands, I let my
tongue go inside her, licking, sliding, gliding, pulling with my teeth,
then pushing back with my tongue.

"My hands held her ass, and every time she came, I could feel her very cute
butt grow so tight, then release with her moans of pleasure. And every time
she did that, I could feel my butt grow just as tight and release with just
as much pleasure.

"Oh, we must have made love for an hour, two hours...who knows? She on me,
me on her, we laying side by side. It was so lovely. And finally, we just
collapsed. Letting ourselves drift off into the most glorious sleep next to
each other.

"Over the next few weeks, we made love several times. Almost every night,
if you want to know the truth. But it was never like that first time. In
fact, we could never make it like that first time. So when summer came and
the school year ended, we said good-bye, pledged our love, but we each had
made plans to live someplace else when we returned to campus in the
fall. No recriminations. No blame. Just a wonderful memory."

By now, the three women were holding hands. Looking at each other. Feeling
their legs brush against one another.

"I wonder," asked Michelle, "if the food in this restaurant is all that
good. Perhaps, Jessi, you would like to come to my place. I have some
wonderful scampi, all the makings for a great salad, and a lovely bottle or
two of wine. And for you, Rita, I don't have that chocolate cake you want,
but I do have a great box of truffles from an admirer and some wonderful
coffee. What do you say?"

"Sounds great to me," said Rita, already picking up her purse. Michelle and
Rita called for their check, refused to let Jessi pay for the one glass of
wine she had, and placed the cash on the table. As the three were getting
ready to leave, Rita turned to Jessi.

"You didn't have a chance to tell us your best penis-less love story," she
said.

"I think," said Jess, "that my best story will be told tomorrow."

-The end