Green Berets for the Sexual RevolutionChapter 13
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At the club, Carol, with many gentle touches, stood. "Let's go to the dressing room so I can get changed for the street. Yes, you're welcome in the main dressing room, after I stick in my head and check to see everyone's either minimally decent, or simply won't mind if one of my friends sees them in whatever." We touched fingers and left the booth. She had us stop at Aimee's booth. "Aimee, I'm heading out for the night. You've got plenty of girls. We'll talk in the morning."
Aimee gave a broad smile. "Have fun."
At the door to the dressing room, Carol asked me to wait a moment. She entered and then came back. "Two girls in there who will be cool with you." Opening the door, she announced, "Hey, this is Curt. I knew him in high school, and he's the best friend I've ever had. You'll see more of him. He's completely cool."
Two women were smoking and sipping coffee. "Over at the table sipping coffee, Gerri is the platinum blonde, and Mara is the brunette." Gerri wore a medium length but filmy white dress, revealing black lingerie underneath. Mara appeared to be in a business suit, but a second look showed it was gray leather. "Gerri is great for giving the image of a society girl, because, in fact, she has a society background Mara does a naughty executive, but also manages some naughty services for the club. More about those later."
Carol had pulled her tube dress back to minimal decency. "It's a nice enough night and I live a couple of blocks away. Let me just cover up with a coat, and change to a little better walking shoes, and we'll leave. She replaced platform sandals with boots having a moderate high heel, and then put on a trench coat. Carol now could pass for many of Washington's professional women, if one didn't examine her makeup too closely. She opened a locker and took out a moderate-sized black purse with a shoulder strap.
Going onto the street, Carol said, "especially while we're on 14th Street and streets directly intersecting it, I avoid looking distracted or affectionate. Just hold hands at the most, but leave my right hand free. This is a gun purse. I like to be prepared, even though we're just going over to 16th Street, a little north of Mass Avenue." I found that very interesting. The Carol that I knew in high school was more intimidated just by what people thought. At the same time, she had a solid grasp of military tactics when looking at history. Had she integrated tactical thinking into her own personality? I rather hoped so. Much as I admired, and probably loved, the old Carol, I wouldn't trust her at my back -- not to betray me, but not to back me up.
Carol giggled. "Since I'm going to have to lead us anyway, you might enjoy the view from behind, even if I'm wearing a coat. As far as things for outside the inner club, I do look forward to your watching me in leather pants as well as skirts." Indeed, some very impressive hip action showed from the rear. Looking down, though, I also realized that her hips were swaying from a very deliberate, controlled, heel-and-toe stride. Carol had always been an athlete, and, often at the base of cheerleader pyramids, one with strength and fast reactions. I was getting a sense, though, of body discipline that I hadn't sensed before. I suddenly had a flash thought of Carol leading a guerilla or counterguerilla patrol.
We arrived at her apartment building, which I vaguely recognized as part of an older building that was part of an area of gentrification. It wouldn't surprise me if her place were much more modern than the look of the building.
She opened several locks, on what I saw was a reinforced door. It wasn't necessarily Manhattan apartment paranoia, but I was glad to see another aspect of her being aware and careful about security. Her comment about having an ownership share in the club still intrigued me. In our old New Jersey terms, was she "connected"? A substantial part of our high school was Italian, but I didn't think of Carol as particularly ethnic. She is quite light-skinned, but maybe northern Italian with some link to the Sicilians? I had never really thought about her surname, Rubio, but that certainly could be Italian.
In fact, I really didn't know her background. There were, however, a fair number of lovely Italians in the cheerleading squad. My mind wondered to Melina -- the rather annoying football captain, whom Carol might have dated, was much more pleasant when he was talking about his Greek heritage.
Her apartment was good-sized. There was an interesting counter between the living room and what looked like a large apartment kitchen, with a dining table at the side. Its decor was rather modern, but with very comfortable looking furniture that still featured leather and metal. It definitely wasn't "girly-girl." The furniture did have lots of throws and pillows, which reminded me of cat protection. Yes, I saw a cat tree in the corner.
Carol gave me a quick hug, and then took my coat. She put it in her hall closet with mine, and then took out a pair of stiletto pumps. "I'm to a point where I'm usually more comfortable in heels, and I definitely want you to see me in them. For that matter, I haven't forgotten what you said about a heel fetish, which sounds delicious. I might have one just as strong. Well, I don't necessarily substitute them for cock when the real thing is available." She gave a deep, throaty laugh, which I didn't remember. I realized that her voice was very pleasantly lower. Just as her figure seemed more--was "solid", the word I wanted? -- I realized that six years might have given her some very nice maturing.
"I'd like some tea along with something harder--and by that I mean alcoholic. Maybe some munchies. I might just need some energy for passion. You do realize that I expect us to drive one another into exhaustion and insanity, but in the nicest possible way? In the club, I do get off at times, but it's rarely leisurely. As I'll tell you about later, there can be more leisurely and exotic things in swing clubs. Oh, I date, but I suspect not much now that I've met you -- unless perhaps we share nice people. Don't worry, I'm not going to be possessive."
This was a very, very different Carol. I still had trouble with a vague yes meaning yes, but Carol just might be overcoming my inhibitions there. If so, it would be damned important for my personal development, and -- dare I hope? -- for my relationship development.
She bustled with a formal tea set. "Since we deserve nothing but the best, I shall prepare Tae Guan Yin tea. It is also known as Iron Goddess of Mercy. You may need her before I finish with you ... or you finish with me. It's like revolutionary warfare--there's room for both soft embrace and pounding one into the ground. After all, remember all the firebases at Dien Bien Phu had charming French female names." She looked sad for a moment. "Don't want to break the mood, but I'm thinking, briefly of some very fine women that either didn't survive Dien Bien Phu, or were scarred by it. That I may think the French Republic is full of fools at the top doesn't mean that the nation cannot produce heroes and heroines, and actually may be better for heroines than our country.
"Enough of that." I closed my eyes as the vaguely apricot aroma of the tea reached my nostrils, when she most elegantly poured. The tea steamed, but so, figuratively, did Carol. I didn't want to speculate about my temperature.
"I wouldn't insult the Iron Goddess of Mercy, Curt, but Gerri does great scenes over formal tea. She really was a debutante, and delights in having people that sneak her out of high-society looks and get down and dirty. No, I don't mean the gardener getting her dirty, but just denying social custom."
Carol stopped and looked serious. "That scene might be something where we should spend some effort. It's another one of those things where the customs say no, even though the participants might say yes. Do you think that might be good for you?"
"Never thought about it in those terms, but yes, it very well might. While I haven't been to many debutante things, the couple that I attended were full of the chaperones beaming don't touch, and about half the girls radiating 'touch, but with my rules even though you don't know what they are.'"
"Okay, that's something for later. Mara's also just a start on professional fantasies." She brought out some interesting looking chocolates and fruit. "Quick energy. That really nice creampie fantasy of yours tells me that being nasty just might relax you. Yes?"
"Oh, God! Yes, yes, yes. Someday, I'm going to be uninhibited enough that routine things give me as much permission to be erotic. Well, with you in high school, they were surprisingly so. Still, I think all three of us concentrated so much on giving pleasure that we'd forget to satisfy the full limits of our own."
"Yeah, Curt, in retrospect, I agree. Just remember that I've learned to like nasty as well as sweet. Melly's Greek blood makes her snooty about how much she gets out of ass fucking, and how good her ass is, but I want you to lick and pound my ass too. Sure, both of us should be clean. Think of my tongue in your ass, while I reach around and play with your cock, or maybe just have you sit on my face while I jill off. Got some interesting images on how I really, really, want you to be just as nasty with me?"
Jane
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