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Sunday, April 11

It was 12:30 in the afternoon when Violett got home. As she stepped into her apartment she noticed the pizza box and empty glasses on the coffee table and knew her roommates, Brad and Jenny, were still in bed. She was grateful for that and just went straight to her room. She felt so weary, as if she were coming down with something. She needed a nap but first she had to put away her things. She dug the garter belt and slip out of her bag placed them in a dresser drawer. The stockings she hung on the vanity mirror, they needed to be rinsed. She unfastened her wrinkled skirt and stepped out of it. It would definitely have to go to the cleaners. She took off her blouse and before tossing it with her laundry; she held it to her face. It still carried a trace scent of Dana.

Violett recalled the woman whose bed she just left. She recalled her sweet face, her engaging smile, her gentle nature, the feelings she awoke in their sex, and most of all the way she held Violett in her arms. Dana made love to her with such sure intent and deliberation which was so unusual for a first-timer.

Violett had left many women’s beds. Sometimes after being dismissed. Sometimes after being abandoned. One time chased away at the point of a knife. But she never felt like this before. Sad and lonely. She was glad to have brought Dana pleasure but she wished it were under better circumstances. She wished that Dana knew her as more than a slut and a whore. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and was repulsed at who looked back at her. She threw herself on the bed and cried for the first time in years.

She could not understand why.

Monday, April 12

Violett finished her day’s class load at 3:30 and headed back to her apartment. She hated Mondays. Two of her mandated Social Science classes met late on Mondays and they were the worst part of her week. Having been a student for most of her life she was well accustomed to be instructed how to think. What she resented about the Sociology classes was their contrary insistence on WHAT to think and also who to hate.

“Hey, Vi,” called out Jenny as she walked in from the kitchen.

“Hi, Jen.” Violett answered. She set down her backpack and looked through the mail. “How was your day?”

“Not bad. How about yours?” Jenny sat down on the couch and put her feet up.

“My life is imitating Art with a spooky consistency. Whose turn is it to cook tonight?” Violett knew it was not hers.

“Brad’s.” said Jenny in a sad tone.

“Spaghetti again?” groaned Violett.

“The poor lad failed Chemistry, he has to stick to what he knows.” replied Jenny with a laugh. “Oh, I think you got messages on your thingie.”

“Thanks.” Violett went to her room, closed the door, and pressed the rewind button on her Code-A-Phone. There was a lot to rewind through. She wondered what made her so popular all of a sudden. It reached the end and she pressed play and turned up the volume.

“So how’s my Angel?” It was the raspy voice of C.J. Her old lover turned manager/pimp. For some reason, that association made her cringe. “Hey, I just got a big check from the Beverly Hills people for your last month’s calls. And they dropped me a line this morning. They have an assignment for you this Friday. Client 147, they say. You’ve been seeing her quite a bit, huh? Maybe she’s gonna propose or something.” C.J. cackled. “Listen, give me a call, we need to get together and settle up.”

“Angel” was, of course, her professional name. C.J. was the one who gave it to her when they were dating. She could remember how things were back then. She was still fairly innocent and sex was just a fun game she played. And did she ever enjoy all the attention. It got to be too much, so she had to hide behind C.J. just to maintain some order and to keep her sex life far away from her home life. Her family knew she was a lesbian but they certainly did not want to be confronted with it. Having C.J. as a gatekeeper was convenient but she never intended for it to turn into an actual business.

C.J.’s blunt “proposal” jab about Client 147 gave Violett a pang of dread. That particular patron was a very famous actress and as of late had been coming on heavy to Angel. She had even suggested Angel come live with her, to turn their affair into a relationship. Violett liked the girl a great deal and had always been a big fan, but love? And as for her fame, Violett wanted no part of that world or what the tabloids would do about the affair when they got a hold of it. Still, the callous joke was entirely uncalled for. Sometimes C.J. was like a vulture on Violett’s personal life and she regretted ever confiding anything to her.

“Hey, Vi? This is Dave.” It was the study group leader from her Probabilistic Theory class. “I re-examined that homework question. You were right, it is a Poisson Distribution. Good catch. We’re meeting at Norlin around seven thirty. Bring your notes.”

That would work out great. She could go to the library at six and have time to knock out her Non-Euclidian Geometry homework before they all showed up.

“Violett, darling. This is Melissa.” Violett immediately recognized the voice of the head thoracic surgeon at Boulder General. Melissa had always been one of Violett’s favorites and she was more than willing to set time aside for the good doctor, but right now she did not feel so accommodating. “Just calling to firm up our date for Saturday night. I thought afterwards we could go to my place and ... Well, you know what you do to me. Please call me, baby. It’s been ever so long since we shared some bliss. I can’t wait to see you again.”

The hospital was holding a fund-raising dinner on Saturday and Violett had agreed to come as Melissa’s date. It was a formal affair. Cocktails, dancing, hobnobbing, and of course to be Mel’s arm ornament. Violett knew the routine. Her role was to be astute, alluring, gracious, and to make Mel look like the most accomplished and charismatic person in the room. She knew better than to phone her before her shift was over so she made a mental note to call her that evening. She was usually so thrilled to be with her. Mel was a fantastic lover and her home was so beautiful. But for some reason the thought of being with her now seemed like a betrayal.

What was going on in her head?

“Hey, can I borrow your car? Call me. I’m at home.”

That was her brother. No problem, she would just drop off her car at his place before she went to the library.

“Hello, Angel, this is Heidi.” The voice of Madam Yvonne’s chief assistant sent a chill through her. “We have another assignment for you. This would be for Client 147. She always asks for you expressly, she wants you for the entire weekend again. I phoned C.J. and faxed her your itinerary. Your ticket will be waiting for you at Stapleton. As usual, our driver will pick you up at L-A-X and bring you to the compound to freshen up. You are expected Friday evening at ten. Please call our office to confirm ... Angel, this client is very important to Madam. We know you will see to her satisfaction with your usual savoir faire. Good day.”

Heidi and Madam Yvonne were the Beverly Hills people that C.J.’s message had referred to. As Angel’s reputation grew she attracted the attention of a very exclusive, out-call prostitution ring that served an upper-class clientele. Madam Yvonne had employed Angel to fill the need for a lesbian escort to women of means from Hollywood to Paris. For the elite who wanted her, Angel commanded a price of $1200 a night and $3000 for a weekend, plus expenses.

Violett never liked Heidi. Heidi was arrogant, demanding, and terribly ruthless. She remembered the first time they met; Heidi conducted the interview in a downtown Denver hotel room. She instructed Violett to strip and then went over every inch of her with a flashlight and magnifying glass, occasionally pausing to snap a picture. After a very intrusive line of questioning she ordered Violett to seduce her secretary while she and C.J. coldly directed her, rated her performance, and bartered over their cut of the action. They made the deal - Violett signed the paper - the secretary went delirious.

Violett had always confided herself with the notion that she was no mere hooker, she was a call-girl. To most of the world a prostitute was a prostitute, but among those in the trade the distinction between hooker and call-girl was stark and very significant. There was an ordinance of rank and prestige among sex workers and next to porn actress; call-girl was about the highest. Furthermore, though Violett’s niche was highly specialized, her intense beauty and skill as a lover elevated her to a very prominent level. In the sex business, Angel garnered a great deal of respect. Regardless, Angel was just a commodity and Violett longed to be a person again.

The easiest thing to cross off her list was C.J. She knew where she would be and called the restaurant.

“Place Pigalle,” greeted the bartender.

“Hi, is C.J. there?” she asked.

“Uhhh ... yeah. Hold on.” He laid the phone on the bar.

After a minute or so of listening to Sinatra singing ‘New York, New York’ on the juke box, C.J. picked up. “Yeah?”

“Do you have Prince Albert in a can?” Violett had always liked to make C.J. laugh.

“Huh, ha. Hey, sweetie. How’d Saturday go for you? Didja collect?” C.J. always got straight to business, especially when some was coming her way.

Violett knew she was not going to like the answer. “No, I let it slide.”

C.J. groaned. “You’re a softie, babe. Like my ma always told me - you give it away and you’ll get a bad rep.” Amusing, but the twist of motherly advice was no accidental blunder.

“I told you. She was absolutely adorable.” Recalling Dana again sent a tingle through her. She needed to explore that in detail.

“You’ll still owe me my cut for the setup.” C.J. took a quick puff. “Speaking of which, amalgamated madam incorporated has a mission for you this weekend. It’s that same chick who had you most of March.”

“Just take the cut out that big check.” She was relieved C.J. left out any Client 147 cracks. “Yeah, I got their message. I can’t make it this weekend. I have a date.”

“Who set you up for this date?” C.J. pried.

“It’s not that kind of date. It’s a date-date,” Violett chuckled.

“You’re giving away MORE free pussy?” asked C.J. in mock disbelief.

Violett sang her reply. “You’re being an asshole, Cinj.”

“Well, alright. I’ll call princess Heidi and tell her you can’t come out to play. But you stop flooding the market with your tangible assets.”

“Put a Band-Aid on it, Cinj,” Violett sang and then hung up.

Wednesday, April 14.

The alarm went off and Violett woke in a startled state. She was having a dream. She was pursuing a beautiful and charming red-headed girl but she kept just out of reach. The dream left her out of sorts and confused. There was only one girl she knew with hair like that. Dana. But Dana was so sweet. What was her Id trying to tell her?

More important, why was Dana still on Violett’s mind?

Dana’s face popped up again in her mind’s eye.

Beneath those lustrous red curls was one of the most beautiful faces Violett had ever seen. Her narrow chin below a supple mouth and a dainty, turned-up nose. Her big, blue doe-eyes that rolled and danced about expressively as she talked. Eyes of radiant joy comingled with a sultry sensuality and they could transform between the two seamlessly. Her dark, arched brows, pale skin, “glistening” red lips. Her bright, happy face that was meant for a smile to dwell on. And she did smile often, a show-girl’s smile that could light people up from across the room. She always looked so sweet and innocent, on the verge of a merriment and benevolence. Her entire countenance beckoned Violett to encompass and cradle.

She was, in cursory estimation, just another in a long line of interludes but somehow curiously more. She dwelled on Violett’s mind and made her think about herself in ways no other girl had. Violett had been with many beautiful women, famous women, and rich women. None had charmed her in the way Dana had. None of them had put notions in her head like Dana was now doing. Violett had never seen herself as being with just one girl, consistently and exclusively, but that image was now warming on her.

She could not quite understand what it all meant but it was so delightful to play with. It gave her the same feelings she had back when she first emerged to the lesbian world.

She was in the 10th grade and for so long after her terrible incident she had shunned the touch of everyone. Her life became cold and dark. That all changed one day through a completely unexpected encounter with a woman a few years older than herself.

The woman’s name was Laura and she worked for Violett’s father. Her father was always quick to volunteer whenever one of his employees needed help on the weekend. Laura was moving to a new apartment and Violett’s dad and some other guys from his business came to help. Violett went along too. It was a long day of back-breaking work but they finished mid-afternoon. Laura ran out of beer so the whole gang followed her father back home to tune-up Laura’s pickup while Violett stayed behind to help Laura with hanging curtains and unpacking.

Violett was so achy and Laura proposed she lie on her stomach for a back massage. The sensation of another’s touch after so long in her tactile withdrawal was like an overload on her starved psyche. Laura asked her how she liked it and when Violett raised herself up to answer, Laura leaned over and kissed her full on her lips. That stirred sensations like she had never known. She wanted more and was eager to go as far as Laura would take her. Her sweatshirt came off, her bra came off, and there were so many of those delightful kisses.

Necking and petting quickly led them to Laura’s bed, where Violett was introduced to the full spectrum of lady-love. It was, for the neophyte teen, a paradise of pleasure. It was the epic paramount of all her life at the time and she devoured it whole. They broke when it began to get dark and Violett drove Laura back home to pick up her truck. Of course, Laura was scared to death about confronting her boss after making love to his daughter all evening. Violett was sympathetic and vowed to keep it to themselves. They never took the relationship further after that, but Violett had discovered a new world and she was anxious to visit it every chance she could.

Her next lesson came from Sandy, a shopping companion of her mother, who took peculiar interest in Violett’s emerging beauty and charm. Violett quickly learned how to exploit this and how to subtly craft her bearing to attract and invite more attention. Before long, Sandy was inviting Violett over for “babysitting” and “cleaning” chores. She taught Violett so much. She passed Violett’s number to other ladies, married women all, but all curious to tap into what the pretty, young enchantress offered.

Violett learned much about not only all the various ways to please a woman but also how to read one. She discovered ways to quickly discern a woman’s mood, desire, composition, facility, and fortitude all in the way they returned a cast gesture. She found she could entice and pick up a new lover by merely browsing among shoppers at practically any retailer. Her network grew and with it her skill as a lover. None of them ever wanted to keep her; rather she was for them just a sweet distraction from their mundane heterosexual havens. Meanwhile, she worked her new world like a pool-shark and none of her friends or family ever suspected.

Friday, April 16

Her day was passing as usual but her mind kept drifting to one subject: Dana. Violett had no trouble meeting eligible females; her problem was that they were either too old or just plain crazy. Dana was neither. She was Violett’s age with a conventional feminine identity and very sweet disposition. She captured Violett’s ardor with a straight-forward and intrepid approach to love-making and an intensity to match.

There was no doubt in her mind. There was definitely something profound about her one-night encounter with this one girl that was deeply affecting her. Dana was definitely changing the way she felt about herself. Violett’s self-perspective was revolving to so transform her from an object of desire to a subject of desire and the notion of being a fixture in someone else’s life.

The realization almost made her giddy with delight. Combined with her recent obsession with Dana, strange new feelings of completeness all bridged to a life with another person spawned in her imagination. She was both excited and afraid. She had never even toyed with such thoughts before. She had nothing to compare it to. She wanted, no, needed to see Dana again and hold all of this new awareness to Dana’s presence and see if that moment would glow like it was doing now in her mind.

She felt Dana would call sometime soon. Maybe next week. She knew first-timers always struggled with guilt for at least a week. She also knew most first-timers were in it as just an experiment or trial for comparison. Almost like a dare they made with themselves, once they had gotten past it, most never came back. But Violett sensed that Dana was different. It seemed Dana was looking for something specific and that her skill as a lover had satisfied whatever it was that Dana sought.

She ardently hoped her feelings were correct.

Saturday, April 17

It was a busy afternoon. Violett decided to wear the same dress she wore to Yvonne’s New Year’s party in Beverly Hills and had to pick it up at the cleaners. It was a thigh-length Champaign-colored cocktail dress with an open back. It highlighted her figure perfectly without being too revealing. She had her hair done and got her nails done too. She was determined to look her best for Melissa. She took a leisurely bath and gave her quim a special grooming, just the way Mel liked. By 5:30 she was ready to get dressed.

Violett had given up pantyhose for a garter belt and stockings years ago and never slipped into a skirt without them. The uniquely feminine attire accentuated the shape of a woman’s legs and the flair of her hips. The combination had become, over the years, a veritable hallmark of feminine sexual allure. Violett wore them because they allowed a lover easy access to her sensual core and they advertised her sensuous motives.

However, her dress was made of a light, clinging fabric that would betray even the slightest crease of any undergarment so she chose to wear none. She checked herself in the mirror one last time and then stepped into the dress and carefully pulled it up and over her shoulders. She lifted each of her boobs and placed them into the cups when there came a knock on her door.

“Vi? Can I borrow your corrector ribbon?” asked Jenny through the door.

“Sure, it’s on top of the dresser,” Violett replied.

“Great, tha... , “ said Jenny as she opened the door and stepped in. “Ooo, I love your hair. That’s awesome. All up except those loose strands on the sides,” said Jenny as she placed her hands on Violett’s shoulders in wonderment at her friend’s transformation.

“Thanks, honey. Zip me up?” Violett asked as she turned around and held her breasts in place.

“Yeah. Where’s Mel takin’ ya?” said Jenny as she worked the tiny tab up its short course and then hooked the top at her neck.

“Flagstaff. The annual schmooze and booze party,” she replied. Violett gave herself a quick spin on her heal and let the material settle as she watched it in the mirror.

“Awww. Take me with you. I promise I’ll be quiet,” whined Jenny as she sat on the bed.

“What about yond prince?”

“He’s got a pizza,” said Jenny in a mock dismissive tone.

“I heard that,” called Brad from the other room.

“Don’t cry for me, Argentina,” she whispered, kissed Violett on the cheek, nabbed the corrector cartridge, then returned to her typewriter in the living room.

Violett waited in her bedroom for her escort to arrive so that she could make a grand entrance, as was proper for a lady. She usually felt a flutter of excitement on these occasions. It was always the anticipation of the sex she expected at the top of the evening. Strangely, tonight she was not feeling it. She shrugged that off and just expected it would come later. When the doorbell rang she heard Jenny answer it and then her greeting. “Hi, Mel. Wow, you look fantastic!”

“Check you out, lady. You’re too hot to waste on Vi. Just wait while I get on my tux,” Chimed in Brad. They always loved to see Melissa.

As they chirped their assorted greetings, Violett went into action. She picked up her Giorgio and sprayed two pumps high into the air. As the mist fell, she gently stepped into the curtain of scent and let it drape about her. She picked up her purse, stepped into the hallway and out to the living room. She smiled gratefully as ‘Oo’s and ‘Ah’s greeted her but she was really taken aback at seeing Melissa.

Mel was stunning. She had styled her raven wedge-cut hair in a way that perfectly framed her sculpted facial features, with the grey at her temples pushed back to a broad sweep that faded into black over her ears. Between her hollow cheeks, her dazzling red lips made her dark eyes look fierce and daring. Her floor-length dress was sleek, black, and sleeveless with an open back and it clung to her sinuous, fit form as if it were painted on. She was the very image of strength and vitality.

“Honey, you look so dashing.” exclaimed Violett. She clasped Mel’s hands in hers and greeted her with a soft kiss on her pursed lips.

“Oh, baby. ‘ so good to see you again,” said Melissa. The two just gazed into each other’s eyes.

Brad put on his concerned father-figure voice and warned, “We expect her home at a decent hour.” Then jabbing at her with his hash pipe for emphasis, he looked sternly at Violett and added, “And no drinking, young lady.”

Mel laughed as she stepped backward out the door, “Oh. Yes, sir. You can count on me, sir.”

Violett grabbed a pillow off the chair by the door and winged it at Brad before she closed the door behind her.

Melissa paused in front of her as they stood on the landing. “Baby, you look divine.” She placed her hands on Violett’s hips and Violett hung her arms over Mel’s shoulders. “I could eat you up.”

Violett replied in a sultry tone as she gazed up though her long lashes, “But then we’d be late for the party.” They kissed. Some Phi Kappa Psi guys up on the roof of their house whooped and whistled, which they ignored. When they broke their kiss Violett took Mel’s arm as she led her down to her waiting 380SL.

The dinner party was being held up at the very posh and scenic Flagstaff House, high on the mountainside. The pair traded exited expectations and entreaties all the way up the steep road to the restaurant. When they arrived, they made their entrance as a couple but without the physical demonstrations. They all, of course, knew that Melissa was a lesbian and that Violett was her customary consort, but the two preferred a detached presentation to defray any offense.

The greeting and informal conversation portion of the evening proceeded smoothly. Violett hovered at Melissa’s elbow to compliment her vigorous and charismatic countenance.

With the ladies, Violett deftly avoided any gossipy detractions but was sure to stay in step with the tempo of a life devoted to the emotional needs of a hard-working professional. She dazzled them with her personal tips and commitment to physical pleasure management without skimming any of the lurid details. She conveyed to them a portrait of doting mistress with all the necessary assurance of being well suited to Melissa’s emotional and intellectual needs.

With the men, Violett conducted herself as an enviable asset to Melissa’s personal prowess. She orchestrated their aspiration without being flirtatious or projecting availability. She made the clear impression she was a treasure to be had, but Mel’s and Mel’s only. In all her conversation exchanges she maintained, in spite of her slight age and limited experience, an air of the intellectual equivalent to anyone in the room.

The dinner portion of the evening proceeded in the same poised flow. Violett ate lightly with consideration of the night to come. She bantered eloquently with donors and doctors alike and charmed all with her trained taste for The Arts and witty banter. At appropriate points she exalted Melissa’s strengths and talents with the lightest of touch. She was in every way a perfect asset to her companion’s presentation.

At an appropriate hour, not too early nor too late, they excused themselves from the party and made a gracious exit. Secured alone in the car they could finally relax. They kissed again and Melissa complimented her on her cordial conduct.

Their drive down the mountainside was electric with excited talk of the evening’s events while compliments on each other’s appearance and conduct flowed freely. When they got to Mel’s place she pulled up to the front door in the circular driveway to give Violett the grand entrance. Once inside Violett was presented with Mel’s immaculate and tastefully embellished home all lit-up in anticipation of their arrival. Melissa dispensed with any trite formalities; the two were well accustomed lovers and knew where this evening would lead. She took Violett’s hand and led her into the opulent living room.

Violett set down her purse and made herself comfortable on the love seat. Her eyes watched Melissa as she circled about the room like a stalking tiger, dimming lights and turning on some soft music. She knew from experience that Mel liked to seduce her so she kept still and waited to be made.

With the mood set, Melissa stood before her, gently lowered herself to Violett’s side. Her arms crept around Violett and she slid herself in close. Mel brought her face close to take in her essence and put her in anticipation of a ravenous kiss.

Violett moved an arm in behind her but waited for Mel to make the first contact. She placed her other hand on her knee to allow Mel access inside.

When the mood was tense enough, Mel struck. Her arm darted in around Violett’s back while the other dashed in to Violett’s hip. Her kiss was hard, almost violent and her tongue charged in to captivate.

This was how Violett loved for Mel to take her. To overwhelm her with her strength and passion. To ravage her into their love-dance. She was being pressed back into the corner of the settee and enjoying Mel’s command. She swept her hands over Mel’s taught sinuous frame to enjoy all of her built-up power and encourage her assault. She subtly spread her knees to invite her lover to her charms.

Mel’s hand had found the catch to her dress and expertly unhooked it and opened the zipper wide. Her mouth hungrily kissed its way across Violett’s jaw line and began nibbling at her earlobe. Her hand came up from Violett’s ass and plundered Violett’s newly exposed boobs. The hand squeezed and pumped at the tender fruits and then gently pinched at the nipples. Mel then kissed her way down to the open breasts. Cupping one in her hand, her mouth closed over the other’s nipple and began to suck and tease at it with her tongue.

Violett remained completely passive. She cradled Mel’s head in her arms and peppered her with kisses. She pushed her chest forward and offered a fresh tit at her lover’s alternating whim. When the time was right, she unfastened the catch at the top of Mel’s dress to free her breasts to partake in the struggle. She pulled down Mel’s dress and felt the soft globes of flesh drop heavy onto her skin.

Mel was feeling her passion now. She rose up onto her knees and spread herself over her prone partner. She again covered Violett’s mouth with her own and forced her tongue in deeply. With a knee between Violett’s thighs and the other arm on the back of the sofa, she bridged over Violett freeing her other hand to explore up the pinned girl’s skirt. Melissa’s fingers lightly glided up her inner thighs looking for that prize at where her thighs joined. The fingertips tenderly traced the edges of the pubic patch before diving down the cleft. With her middle finger poised to part Violett’s flesh Mel abruptly froze and broke their kiss.

Erect nipples, swollen labia, and the musky wetness within, Violett was never ashamed that her body’s signs proclaimed her arousal. She was well acquainted with all the clues, as was the good doctor. Melissa did not find the signs of arousal. She was met with retracted labia and no welling of moisture. There was no hiding it. The good doctor as well as any experienced lover could tell that Violett’s heart was not in this encounter.

Melissa lifted herself, removed her hand from under Violett’s dress, and turned on the lamp on the table behind the love seat. She looked into Violett’s eyes with concern but a slight hint of disappointment she could not hide. “What’s wrong, baby?” she asked softly.

Violett froze and searched herself for a proper answer. This was embarrassing and she was deeply shamed to fall short of a partner’s expectations. She dropped her arms to her lap self-consciously. “I’m ... I’m sorry. I have a lot on my mind. I’ve really wanted to ... Maybe if I had a drink and we could relax in the Jacuzzi a bit.” She thought surely that would all work. She wanted so much to please Mel and with a little time she would warm up.