The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I

Even Ruby had to admit that the Subaru lacked comfort and felt cramped in the long drive out West. Ivy had long since kicked off her pink flip flops, scooted the seat back as far as it would go, stretched her legs out, rubbed her toes, and flopped her bare feet on the dashboard, just above the glove compartment.

Ruby took her eyes off the long expanse of flat landscape cut by a long straight highway to glance at Ivy’s little toes wiggling their tiny pink polished nails.

“Do you have you to?”

“Do I have to what?”

“Put your stinky feet on my dash?”

“They’re not stinky.”

“Are to.”

“Are not.

“Are to.”

That went on for another twenty-five miles.

Ruby looked at her fuel gauge, getting worried. She hated it any time the needle dropped below the quarter line. She kept her eyes peeled for any sign of a station, but nothing interrupted the continuous flat landscape.

“I knew we should’ve stopped in Clayton. Why the hell didn’t we take the Interstate?”

“Something will turn up.”

“We’ll run out of gas first.”

“Something will turn up.”

“Not if we die first.”

“Something will. I promise.”

Ruby eyed Ivy from the corner of her eye. Her best friend curled nonchalantly against the car door, her bare feet now snuggle against her slim butt. She looked for all the world like a big cat curled on an armchair.

How could anybody curl up like that?

Ruby knew she’d never be able to pull of that kind of contortion.

The Subaru rolled through the endlessly unchanging landscape. A few white clouds dotted the big sky, a few stray cirrus floated higher above. Nothing moved in the big sky, nothing moved on the ground, the car itself did not move. Stray peaks of ragged rock lined the horizon, threatening to bloom into mountains. Ruby wondered how far off the Rockies were.

Everything seemed stuck, motionless, but when she looked at her speedometer, Ruby saw the needle pushing past 90.

The conversation eased into that steady rhythm of banter good friends, friends who’ve known each other for long years, fall into. Silly words without meaning caused sudden fits of laughter to the point of gasping for breath. Hand gestures meant entire libraries accompanied by silences of the deepest import. Mostly, though, they just shot the shit.

But the fuel gage dropped below an eighth of a tank, and the landscape remained empty.

Ruby bit her thumbnail and hummed.

Something pink flashed in the sunlight lowering in the west.

All at once, Ivy sat up and pointed towards the right of the highway.

“What’s that? It could be a gas station. I bet it’s a gas station.”

It wasn’t.

II

As they neared the pink spot, they both realized that they were driving towards a roadside motel of some kind, done up entirely in pink.

A lighted sign, a large trapezoidal board with the narrow end pointing down and below said Pink Venus Inn. The sign beneath the name of the inn said Vacancy, and large, round lightbulb surrounded the entire trapezoid.

“We should at least stop and ask where the nearest gas is,” Ruby said.

Ivy nodded.

Less than an eighth of a tank worried even her typically unruffled nature.

The parking lot was clean and well-painted, parking slots clearly delineated by broad yellow stripes showing brightly against the black tar. To their relief, two pumps, again in pink, stood in front of the motel, a long low single-story adobe with a long wood covered deck running the length of the front.

Ruby pulled up to the pumps and stopped.

Ivy opened the door and flung her legs out.

“Might as well stretch our legs, take a look around. They probably have vending machines around here.”

The check-in office was at what Ivy assumed to be the front of the long building, jutting out a little from the rest of the adobe.

On the far side of the motel, all the way at the end of the parking lot stood a little outbuilding, also done up in pink. A tall, narrow adobe with a steep roof accented with a tall steeple.

It looked for all the world like a small chapel, and that in fact is what it was: a small pink chapel with a little rainbow arching above two pink doors, richly ornate and paneled with a heavy iron ring hanging from each door.

The shadows lengthened in the setting sun, and the tip of the shadow of the chapel spire fall at the feet of Ivy as she stared around her.

“You know. I was thinking.”

Ruby felt the same way. She didn’t need Ivy to finish her thought.

“We’ve been driving all day long, and I’m pooped,” she said, holding the fuel handle. The pump numbers clicked off behind her, pink digital numerals somehow easy to read for all that.

“Think we should just crash here?”

“I don’t think we’re likely to find anywhere else.”

III

Ivy waited for Ruby to fill the tank up and move the car to one of the many empty spaces, then the two friends walked into the office, with Ruby holding the door open.

“You just going to stand there?” she asked Ivy, who hesitated on the sidewalk in front of the aluminum, steel, and glass door of the check-in office. Ivy stared at the chapel and at the emptiness of the parking lot.

“It’s all a little surreal, don’t you think? I mean, no one’s here.”

“Relax. I’m the worrywart, and everything seems pretty okay to me. I mean, it’s all pretty vacant, but still. Besides, I’m with you. We’ll be okay.”

Ivy glanced at the can of spray mace attached to Ruby’s belt, a perennial and inevitable accoutrement whenever the young woman traveled. A suggestion from Tom, her boyfriend of two years. Not that she needed much prodding.

Ivy grinned at her Ruby’s outfit.

Khaki shorts, red tennis shoes, pale green ankle-length socks, a pale green tee with a faded rose in black and white print. She pulled her long, light strawberry blond hair into a loose tail she draped over her right shoulder to hang over her chest. Ruby was larger and taller than Ivy, who stood at 5′1″ and wore a loose yellow sundress which swirled around her waifish figure, so different from Ruby’s curvy body with her wide, round hips and wide, round chest.

With her pink flip-flops and dark auburn, almost red hair styled in a spreading bob of naturally wavey hair, Ivy looked ready to hit the beach. But any beach lay thousands of mile away, and here where they stood, only vast stretches of prickly pear and scrub brush showed itself to the eye.

Ivy swished her hips suddenly and jumped up, clapping.

“Oh, you’re right. This will be fun!”

IV

The office interior matched the pink theme. The welcome slash check-in counter and walls, all painted a bright pink, were festooned in patterns of red hearts in pairs, along with words in purple cursive letters spelling Love, Happiness, Temptation, Joy, Desire, Lust. It was all very, well, Valentinesy.

Behind the counter, a very attractive and spritely woman, who must have been in her mid-to-late thirties but hummed and vibrated like a girl of eight, busied herself dropping cellophane wrapped boxes of bottled water on the countertop. She broke the wrap and arranged the bottles in neat little rows. The woman’s hair was a deep auburn color, similar in color to Ivy’s hair, but shinier, longer, far more luxurious. Two long, narrow strands of tightly braided hair hung from each side of her head, just in front of her ears.

The woman looked somewhat taller than Ivy, but her body promised a voluptuosity of hip and bosom that Ruby herself envied.

She smiled happily at the two girls when they entered, and her hazel green eyes sparkled with a mischief of raw sexual prowess. She spoke from full lips glistening and gleaming in the glossiest of pinks, lips which drew the eyes of the two travelers in, who just stared as she spoke, captivated and enraptured.

“Oh my,” the woman said. “Just look at how cute you two are. I haven’t had guests in ages, and I’m just so. Well. I’m just so happy to have you. It’s so romantic, don’t you think?”

Ruby stared, and Ivy stared, beguiled, perplexed and mildly alarmed.

Did that woman just wink at them?

“Romantic?” Ruby asked.

“Of course, sweetie. Everything can be romantic if you let it.”

Ruby frowned, slumped by that remark, and chose to let it slide.

Whatever, she thought.

“These are complimentary. The company’s been promoting them. They’re new. Kind of. They’re new around here.”

Ivy’s ears pricked up. The way the strange woman said “around here” sounded a little off. Strange. But the woman behind the counter just smiled, and Ivy smiled back. It was impossible not to.

The woman wore a name tag above the swell of her left breast.

Sara Craft.

Sara grabbed a short bottle of Pink Water, twisted the top, and handed one to Ivy, then she performed the same action and handed a bottle to Ruby.

Both girls shrugged, took a slow sip of the drink, paused, smiled, and followed the slow sip with several longer gulps.

Sara giggled.

“They’re just so yummy, aren’t they?”

Ivy and Ruby returned her giggle, suddenly feeling like little schoolgirls set free in a garden of secrets and magic hopscotch.

Soon the two girls emptied their bottles, almost at the same time, and set the bottles on the counter, where Sara winked, smiled, and tossed the containers into a recycling bin behind her.

“It’s weird around here,” she said. “It’s like you’re only now just starting to think.”

Sara shrugged.

“I’ve seen worse.”

She stepped behind her monitor, tapped her keyboard, and squinted.

“You two are so lucky. We have lots of vacancy, and I just so much want to treat you. What do you say to the honeymoon suite?”

Ivy and Ruby turned to each other, an expression of alarm or something like it spreading rapidly across each other’s faces.

“Honeymoon suite it is,” Sara continued. “Don’t worry. The bed’s huge.”

Sara grinned broadly.

“Plenty of room for fun!”

Ivy shifted her feet uncomfortably, and Ruby stared, visibly perturbed, at the strange woman.

“But. We’re not. We’re just. Our boyfriends.”

Sara slid the key to the honeymoon suite towards Ruby, who took it with hesitation, not knowing what else to do or whether she should do anything else, too surprised to notice the key was a real key, not a card.

On a huge pink fob with Pink Venus Inn in gold letters embossed on it.

By this time Sara stepped from behind her counter and strode up to the two girlfriends.

“You two haven’t even been to my gift shop yet! Come on, you’re just going to love it,” and with that she took hold of both girl’s hands and walked them to and through an open doorway at one end of the check-in office.

As uneasy as Ruby and Ivy felt, they followed the woman pliantly, somehow relaxed and vigilant at the same time.

What in the world was happening to them, Ivy thought.

Sara stopped, seemed to stiffen momentarily, and dropped both hands she held.

Spinning around suddenly, she peered at Ivy with dark and puzzled, almost angry eyes, but when she spoke an unmistakable sadness tinged every word.

“What did you say?”

Ivy reeled backward a couple of steps, defensive and confused.

“I didn’t say anything,” she said.

Sara shook her head sadly.

“Never mind. I’m sorry. I thought I heard you say something. The way you said it. It reminded me of somebody I used to know. Long ago.”

Then she turned around and quickened her pace until the trio stood just inside the small gift shop.

But Ivy could have sworn she heard Sara mutter to herself.

“Don’t worry, baby,” she thought she heard her say. “I’m coming for you.”

V

Golden brown Saltillo tiles covered the floor of the gift shop, a wide roundish space with walls covered in shelves from which various items and goods hung from hooks or lay on the wire or wooden shelves. Racks displayed clothing in the middle of the area, and Sara had devoted one area of the shop to books, magazines, videos, and music.

“You can stream all that,” she admitted. “But I’m old school.”

The gift shop sold mugs, knick-knacks, bric-a-brac, a few items of stuff, and an assortment of nonsense; Ruby and Ivy soon found themselves ogling, inspecting, reviewing, appraising, critiquing, and laughing at everything meeting their eyes. Though they didn’t notice it, Sara did. Wherever Ruby went, Ivy followed, and the two girls stood side by side or the one behind the other, so close together they often touched, they’re bodies brushing together casually and affectionately.

Ruby sniffed the air and turned towards Sara.

“It smells nice in here. What is it? It smells like.”

Ivy finished the sentence.

“Cinnamon.”

Sara laughed.

“Oh, just a little something my own mother came up with a while back. It’s lovely isn’t it? Just lovely. Kind of sexy too, when you think about it.”

Ivy looked down, red in the face, but Ruby tittered as she met Sara’s hazel eyes.

“I guess so,” she said. “It is. It is kind of. Sexy.”

Ruby flushed when she said that, and a buzz of electricity raced through her, she squeezed her thighs together as her groin felt suddenly hot and aroused, and she knew she was getting wet. Her nipples hardened under her bra, and her heart hammered in her chest, beating a loud quick tattoo.

God. I’m so fucking turned on right now.

Ivy squirmed beside her, and they continued looking at the mugs, suddenly aware of how sexual everything in the gift shop was.

And lesbian.

So lesbian.

Mugs with entwined Venus symbols with heart-shaped tops, or outlines of women’s faces touching, lip to lip and nose to nose, picture frames set with stock photos of two brides in white dresses facing each other, towel sets embroidered with Hers in pink calligraphy, toys.

Adult toys.

For women.

Ruby’s mouth went dry looking at all the vibrators, dildos, lubricants, clamps, chains, beads, and sundries.

Ivy, standing at Ruby’s side, pressed into her friend, both bodies trembling and warm. Ruby’s arm reached around Ivy’s waist, and Ivy did not try to move away.

When they came to the racks of garments, both girls exhaled loudly.

“Oh. My. God.”

“Aren’t they so incredible?” Sara asked as she walked up to the two young women. “You two will look so cute wearing any of these, but I like this one especially for you, Ruby.”

Sara held up a set of lingerie in pale turquoise, very sheer and frilly, a teddy with a diaphanous negligee with satin ribbons at the collar set off by frills and faux fur. She touched the crotch of the teddy and held it up, showing a split in the gusset.

“Crotchless. To make it so easy for your girlfriend. For Ivy. She won’t even have to pull the crotch away when she eats you out tonight.”

“Excuse me?” Ruby almost yelled, shaking and red, incredibly aroused despite her outrage.

“I don’t know what you think is going on here. But. But.”

Ruby paused and Sara held her index finger lengthwise against Ruby’s lips.

“Shush. Listen to Sara. Sara knows best.”

Ivy shimmied and squirmed beside Ruby, Ruby’s arm still around her waist as the girl held her head against Ruby’s shoulder.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay, Ruby,” she kept repeating over and over. “Let’s just go. Let’s just.”

Sara fixed Ivy with her flashing green eyes.

“I have just the thing for you.”

Sara reached into the rack and quickly brought out just the sheerest lingerie Ivy had ever seen, in shimmering pink satin.

Sara’s eyes glittered watery as she held it up against Ivy’s body.

“Oh you’ll just look so lovely for your Ruby. So soft, precious, and sexy. So sexy. So hot and fuckable. And Ruby’s just going to want to fuck you now, Ivy. She wants to fuck you so badly, she can’t stand it.”

Sara continued holding up the lingerie on their hangers, one in either hand.

“She was so pretty when I first saw her in something like this. I knew then that she was something unbelievable.”

Ruby and Ivy stared at each other, wondering what the odd woman was talking about.

Sara wiped her eyes with a forearm and smiled tenderly.

“You won’t be able to keep your eyes or hands off each other tonight when you wear these.”

She handed the items to Ruby and Ivy, who both protested.

“But, but.”

“Oh don’t worry,” Sara winked. “I won’t charge you for it. Think of them as my wedding gift to the two of you.”

Ivy leaned into Ruby’s ear.

“Let’s just get out of her, Ruby.”

Ruby nodded quickly in agreement, but they both carried their nighties as they rushed from the gift shop.

VI

A long and narrow hallway ran behind the rooms of the pink motel. On one side, on the left side the girls passed door after door, pausing only to check the number against the room number on the big pink fob in Ruby’s fist. Sixty-nine.

Ruby groaned.

That figures.

A long, wide space opened up on their right beyond tall glass windows lining the wall. A long swimming pool with many deck chairs and a short diving board at one end stretched behind the tinted glass walls. A narrow strip of flowering plants and shrubs ran the length of the wall between the hall and the glass wall, set off by a low, wrought-iron fence.

Room 69 was the last room, naturally.

The hall ended at the door to the suite, and Ivy could see the exterior wall of the motel extend in a gentle curve outside the glass wall.

The room must be a lot bigger than the others, she thought.

Ruby had been holding Ivy’s hand the whole time, almost dragging her friend behind her as they fled Sara and the gift shop.

They both were breathing heavily, and they stood in front of the door catching their breath.

Ruby held her key out.

“Should we? I mean. We should at least take a look. I don’t think I can keep driving tonight. I’m just so. Beat.”

Ivy nodded in agreement, carelessly beating the babydoll on its hanger against her hip.

Ruby stuck the key into the doorknob, opened the heavy, solidly built door, and led Ivy by her hand into the honeymoon suite.

They both silent and shocked, barely able to register what they saw.

The entire room had been done up in bright pinks, pale pinks, neon pinks, pastel pinks, swirling pinks, marbled pinks, and what wasn’t pink was pink-highlighted.

Red hearts covered the walls along with the words love, first letter capitalized.

Love. Love. Love.

And interspersed with the hearts and the Loves, little red outlines of doves floated, wings outstretched like wide, shallow doubleyous drifting happily on the walls.

A huge, heart-shaped bed stood in the midst of the room, a long cabinet lined the wall opposite, above which hung a very large flat screen. A motel phone stood on the cabinet, along with a remote for the flatscreen.

Two night tables stood at either side of the bed, and Ivy inhaled with shock when she saw the items on the tables.

An assortment of different colored dildos of various sizes, bottles of lubricant, and two sets of strap-on dildos, one purple, the other pink, long and life-like.

The same cinnamon fragrance hung in the air, and Ruby’s arousal, which had momentarily subsided, resurged. Ivy fidgeted.

To the right of the door, partitioned off by a tinted glass wall, was a small area with a Jacuzzi, that itself enclosed by glass walls in which a door led to the outside, where a cement path led to the swimming pool area.

The tinted glass was fogged, and steam rose from the water of the hot tub, as if someone had already prepared it in advance, expecting their arrival.

A fireplace sat in the wall to the left, built into the wall beyond which lay the parking lot and the highway.

After Ruby went back to the car, trying to avoid Sara’s smiling glances, to fetch their luggage consisting of two small pieces of luggage, the two girls settled in for the night.

VII

Ruby threw a glance at the Jacuzzi. Hot water sounded so good to her.

“Do you think we should?” She nodded towards the hot tub.

“I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“Do you need one? Couldn’t we, you know? You don’t wear a swimsuit when you take a bath, do you?”

Ivy bit her lip.

“You mean? Naked? Together?”

Just saying it sent a thrill of excitement and fear shooting through her nerves, terrifying and exhilarating her at the same time. She felt as if she were about to do something very naughty, and she giggled inwardly, and all those confused feelings she felt in the gift shop came surging back to her, flooding her mind with.

Oh, god.

But Ruby had already kicked off her sneakers and started pushing down her shorts.

“I’m going in,” she proclaimed. “You can come if you want. I need this.”

Ruby’s shorts dropped to the big rug covering the Saltillo floor, followed quickly by her panties. She pulled her green tee-shirt over her head, unhooked her bra, and before Ivy could blink twice, her best friend stood naked in front of her.

“Ta da.”

Ruby struck a quick pose, and Ivy turned red.

They had been friends for years, but neither one of them had been so flagrantly nude in front of the other. Showers in the gym or in high school, where they’d kept their eyes off each other, for the most part. Glimpses in the dressing room while shopping.

But nothing so.

So.

So charged with eroticism.

An uncomfortable eroticism, now that that strange woman, that Sara was gone.

Ruby’s whole body seemed to wave and undulate as curve swayed with curve, and Ivy glowed staring at her friend’s bosom, her pear-shaped tits so round and full.

Mouth-watering.

Stop it, Ivy.

Something’s not right.

Something’s gone wrong here.

We’ve never.

But we’re alone now.

Then Ruby clapped her hands, laughed and jogged toward the door leading to the hot tub.

“Oh god,” Ivy heard her squeal, “It’s so warm. It’s like she knew we were coming.”

VIII

It hadn’t taken long for Ivy to join Ruby.

Standing in the middle of the pink room, she looked down at her own pink-polished toes, took a deep breath, kicked off her flip-flops, pulled her sundress straps off her shoulders, and let the dress fall to the floor.

She unhooked her bra and let it fall.

She saw Ruby staring at her while leaning against the side of the tub, looking pleased, intrigued, and, well. Turned on.

Stop it.

Keeping her eyes on Ruby, she pushed her panties down, and tried striking the same pose, hand on hip, that Ruby had struck. Then she darted towards the hot tub, suddenly resolved to do this with her friend.

Her best friend.

IX

Sara locked the door of the office behind her and walked to her parked Mercedes. She had been surprised by how many of these, these ’verses had variations of the German automobile, but now she barely even noticed the oddity when she rented one.

She’d found her.

Well, one of her. She knew better than to let herself get pulled in. Knew better than to try to talk to her, or greet her, or even get too close to her. She’d done that before, and always, always with that cruel wrenching of her heart.

There was only one of them for her.

And she had been taken away.

Still, she could only chastise herself so much for utterly failing for the umpteenth time not to check on even a semblance of her beloved as she tapped her name into the computer.

It had taken her a long time to do this, at first. But she quickly learned how to vary the spelling of the name.

She usually started out here. Where Edge City would have been if Edge City had existed. What did they call it here? Santa Domingo? No. San Domingo.

In New Mexico.

A funny name, she thought, but she’d heard funnier.

A violent place, too. Not like her own country back in her own ’verse.

A violent, unhappy, angry place.

A lot like her own Vespuccia, this place, this Amerigia.

But oh, so different.

So pig-headed.

So militant, and she’d thought Vespuccia was too militant.

Still, here again she’d seen worse.

There were worse Amerigias than this one, worse Vespuccias, worse Earths, really.

But they all had one saving grace.

They all had her.

Except her own Earth.

The flat and rocky landscape rolled on, the Rocky Mountains could be glimpsed in the distance, and the Mercedes eventually pulled up to small park where a tall, well-built blond-haired woman in her mid-to-late thirties pushed a wheelchair down a narrow path. An older gentleman sat in the wheelchair, and the two women who stood behind him laughed at whatever he was saying to them.

Sara frowned when she recognized Madison, or whatever her name was here.

But she didn’t waste any more time on the woman, hair still styled in her shortish, dyke page boy haircut.

Her eyes went straight to the blonde.

Sara’s throat choked with a sudden lump.

How could?

How could anyone be so beautiful?

She radiates. She positively radiates.

Although the woman was in her forties, just like Sara, the woman in the car saw only the teenage girl she had met, befriended, seduced, and loved so many years and universes ago.

Sara continued staring at the trio for a few minutes, then the tears started running down her face, and she spoke out loud, scolding herself.

“Don’t do this, Sara. Don’t do this. She’s not her. You know that. She’s not her.”

The window of her car went down, and she heard the voices of the two women and the one man, who Sara assumed to be the blonde’s father.

The three of them were laughing about something, Sara couldn’t tell what, when the old man’s voice rose.

“Oh god, Wendy. Stop that. You’re killing me with that joke.”

The window of the Mercedes went back up.

The blonde, the brunet, and the man in the wheelchair all looked up at the sound of squealing tires.

“What’s her problem?” Madrigal asked, turning to the blond woman.

“What in the world,” Wendy said. “Some people need to learn how to drive.”

But there was a strange look in Wendy’s eyes, she shivered, and when looked at her arms she saw goose bumps.

X

That strange woman had been right after all.

But before that, before Ivy stared smitten by Ruby in her turquoise negligée and before Ruby drank in the loveliness of Ivy in her sheer, so sheer, pink babydoll, Ivy stood at the edge of the hot tub, drew in her breath deeply, avoiding Ruby’s gaze, and sat on the smooth rim. Then she slid one leg over, exposing her, oh god, she can look right at me, region. Impetuously, gathering a new courage, she lingered in that pose, allowing the vision of her slit, her hole, her pussy, to sink, sink, sink into Ruby’s transfixed mind.

And Ruby had looked.

Oh, god. How Ruby had looked.

Her eyes were glued to Ivy’s sex, a lump formed in her throat, and she swallowed.

Her pussy seemed to glow, that was all she could say about it, it seemed to radiant a deep and gorgeous pink, and when Ruby caught a pink flash glittering from somewhere just a little away from Ivy pretty pink pussy, she saw her friend’s toenails, still polished pink.

Two bottles of the pink fuzzy water the strange woman Sara had given them stood on the edge of the hot tub, just within reach of Ruby. Suddenly thirsty again, Ruby reached for a bottle, twisted the pink cap, and took a long sip of the bubbly, bubble-gummy, and super amazing liquid. She suddenly felt good, warm, and horny. Really horny, really aroused.

She’d never recognized just how gorgeous, just how lovely, just how sexy her friend Ivy was.

Her lips glowed pink, her dark and swirly auburn hair covered her head like a soft helmet, and her face.

Her face.

Neither one of the girls had ever considered themselves that attractive.

Not in the usual sense.

Oh, they were cute, especially Ivy, with her round cheeks in her round face, her long nose, and her pouty mouth, her small tits and her whole waif-like body. Ruby was larger, fleshier, fuller in every sense. She’d inspect her face in the mirror, wonder if her face wasn’t too broad or too flat, but she knew.

She was what you’d call handsome if you were a man.

There wasn’t really a word for it for women.

Attractive just to the point of being sexy, but.

She’d turn no head.

Neither Ivy nor Ruby would turn a head.

All this she knew.

Or had known.

Now?

Oh my god, she’s so beautiful.

So hot.

Ruby’s gaze returned to Ivy’s pussy, still perched on the edge of the hot tub, still pink and glowing and enticing.

Then Ivy swung her other leg over the edge, and her body from the shoulders down disappeared with a splash into the swirling hot water of the Jacuzzi.

XI

Ivy drank from the new bottle Ruby had proffered her.

“I like this stuff,” she said. “I never heard of it, but it’s super amazing.”

Ivy’s body surged with the same warm, fuzzy arousal that titillated her friend.

My god, Ivy realized. She radiates.

Ivy and Ruby chittered and chattered, laughed, swept their arms just below the surface of the water and clung to each other with their eyes.

Eventually they both fell silent as an undeniable heat for the other flooded their systems.

They tried to hide from themselves, from each other.

Stop it, Ruby said to herself.

This is so stupid, Ivy’s mind whispered.

But her hand drifted to her vagina as she spread her thigh, her eyes glued to Ruby’s eyes.

Her toes touched Ruby’s toes under the water.

She kept her eyes fixed on Ruby as she began to stroke herself, to slide her fingers through her hot and aching folds, so turned on by this moment, so turned on just by Ruby’s elegantly formidable face, so strong and powerful and womanly.

She saw Ruby’s shoulders bend and move, and she wondered if Ruby were touching herself. Then she Ruby bite her lip, and she knew.

Each one knew what the other was doing, but still they said nothing as they fingered each other, watching each other intently across the roiling, steaming surface of the water, the hum of the hot tub motor unable to mask the ragged breathing of the two women as they fucked themselves in front of each, hidden only by the water.

And their toes touched, their feet touched each other, and then their feet started, well. Fondling. Caressing. Their toes and the soles and their heels touched and bumped and slid into each other as they started fucking themselves more earnestly, faster, harder, louder.

And still they said nothing; they looked into her each other’s glazed eyes, saw their flushed faces approaching the look of ecstasy, of orgasm, and they bucked their hips into their fingers, and then they groaned, unmistakably and openly they groaned.

Their silence was broken.

“Oh god. Oh god,” Ivy moaned.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck,” Ruby whined.

Waves of pleasure poured over Ivy, and she wanted to close her eyes to her oncoming climax as she rubbed the lips of her vulva and sank her fingers, two and then three, deep inside her clinching hole. But her eyes were locked on Ruby’s eyes, and she saw the same primal need in her friend’s eyes. Her breasts heaved under water, and Ivy longed to look at them, to feast on her friend’s lush, vibrant, and voluptuous body.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, I’m cumming. I’m fucking cumming.”

The orgasm, like an immense dog, shook her body in its jaws and flung her side to side, then it dropped her and howled. Ivy stared at Ruby shuddering in her own climax, folding her body as she leaned forward while she squeezed her hand between her thighs, her fingers pressing against her hard clitoris.

“Oh god, Ivy. Oh god, Ivy. Oh god, Ivy. I’m cumming. I’m cumming so fucking hard.”

XII

When they both calmed down enough, they caught their breaths and realized their toes were still gently nudging the other’s leg, slowly and tenderly caressing each other’s legs in the afterglow of a good orgasm. Shyly they drew their legs to themselves, sat up, and looked away, turned to each other, smiled, looked away, and turned to each other again, still smiling shyly.

“Well.”

“That was.”

“Something.”

They had both nodded in agreement.

It really was something.

It had really been something.

Slowly, awkwardly, their minds fluttering with confused thoughts and emotions, wondering what changes, if any, all this meant, they moved around in the water. They tried chatting, but quickly fell quiet. Ivy wondered if it were over. Surely it was over? Surely all this bizarre arousal had been satisfied? Ruby wondered if it were over. Surely she had worked this weird sexual tension out of her system?

She looked at Ivy, inspecting her friend’s face for reasons she had felt so much lust for her.

Nothing.

Ivy, too, looked at her friend, but that weird desire seemed to have faded completely, leaving her feeling strangely saddened.

Dripping, the two girls emerged from the hot tub and wrapped themselves in long pink beach towels folded nearby on a bamboo tabouret.

A row of pink bottles lined the countertop of a long cabinet built into the wall of the small spa area.

Suddenly Ivy felt thirsty again.

Ruby did too.

They both jiggled over to the cabinet, a new mood settling over both of them, quickly displacing the uneasy attitude of uncertainty and confusion.

I just masturbated in front of Ruby, Ivy thought. And I had the best orgasm of my life.

Ruby reached for two short bottles and handed one to Ivy, a broad grin on her wide, friendly face.

They twisted the caps off and poured the drinks into their mouths, as if seized by an overwhelming need for the sweet, pink liquid, so bubbly and oh so delicious.

“Now what?” Ivy asked.

“We could watch some movies. There must be something on that huge TV.”

“In bed?”

“Why not,” Ruby answered. “We’ve been sitting in that cramped car all day long.”

They padded to the big room and sat on the edge of the heart-shaped bed.

Ruby looked up and saw the mirror.

She nudged Ivy, who looked up, and frowned slightly. Then she grinned, and they both giggled until they both found themselves shrieking loudly with laughter, flailing on the mattress and poking each other in the ribs.

Finally, the laughter stopped, and Ruby spoke after a moment of quietness.

“You know. If we’re going to go to bed now, we might as well try on our new. Our new nighties.”

Ivy gulped and quickly agreed.

XIII

That strange woman had been right after all.

Ivy’s eyes focused like a laser on Ruby, only the reach of an arm away from her, posed in her pale turquoise negligée with its faux fur collar drawn high on her neck by two delicate ribbons with the sheer nightie exposed from the neck down to reveal the lacy aqua teddy, sheer to the point of transparent. The bottom of the teddy rose high on her fleshy hips, creating a V that plunged between her thighs, barely concealing her lips, so engorged now they the could be clearly seen protruding on either side of her crotchless gusset.

Crotchless.

Ivy remembered Sara’s fingers poking through the gap as she held the garment up in the gift shop. She remembered what Sara had said.

“Crotchless. To make it so easy for Ivy when she eats you out tonight.”

The words reverberated in her mind, shaking her with its wonderfully ominous promise of sexual abandon.

She gazed at Ruby hungrily.

“You won’t be able to keep your eyes or hands off each other tonight when you wear these.”

No, she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t be able to keep her hands off Ruby. She couldn’t even tear her eyes away from her marvelous apparition.

Ruby’s breasts were full, pear-shaped, and her nipples rose dark and hard behind the turquoise fabric, poking through in their eagers, hard knobs surrounded by dark, dark areolas. Her legs were spread, her thighs gaped open to show Ivy her swollen crevice, and Ivy groaned softly.

She watched her left arm reach for Ruby as she stepped for to embrace her friend.

No, she wouldn’t be able to keep her hands off her. She couldn’t keep her hands off her.

Her fingers slipped easily over Ruby’s wide lips, extended and swollen, and the two strings of her crotchless gusset spread to allow Ivy’s fingers full access to the hot, slippery lips.

Her right arm reached around Ruby, but already Ruby grabbed Ivy around the waist, pressing the smaller girl hard against her body as she tilted her head and kissed her friend for the first time.

Ivy’s dainty and demure lips opened surprisingly wide for Ruby, and Ruby held the back of Ivy’s head, her fingers deep in her friend’s soft and luxurious hair, only a little damp from the hot tub.

Ivy melted.

A flurry of confused feelings ran through her mind, charged with a sense of panic but altogether surrounded by an immense cloud of desire.

Ivy melted.

Her body stiffened at the first touch of Ruby’s lips on hers, then she opened her mouth, let her friend’s tongue inside, and collapsed in Ruby’s embrace.

She wanted to resist, to struggle, to pull away, even to try dominating the larger woman herself; she wanted to feel anything other than this utterly powerless sense of surrender, of yielding. She felt like she had so often felt when her boyfriend kissed her, or all those boys way back a few years in high school.

How overcome she’d get, how, she didn’t want to think frail, she didn’t feel frail, that wasn’t it, but. Overpowered, or able to get overpowered, if that made any sense. They were usually so much bigger, so much stronger, because she liked the athletic types, the clean-looking jocks and the well-built bad boys, she liked to feel them over her, liked to feel herself, well, mastered, dominated.

Protected.

There was that.

No.

This kiss was nothing like those kisses, and Ruby’s power was nothing like those boys. Less physically powerful, less one-sided and insistent, Ruby nevertheless gripped Ivy in an embrace from which the girl knew she could not easily withdraw.

Nor did she want to.

This kiss was nothing like a boy’s, like a man’s.

Her mind, reeling in some kind of bizarre state where thoughts flashed by so quickly they seemed to be instant, where thoughts flashed by so vividly they seemed to be permanent, timeless, raced towards memories of backseats and nightclubs.

Her first kiss with Bryan, all those nights in the backseat of her cousin’s car; she was fourteen and trembling under his nervous, fifteen-year old fervent hands, his delirious, insistent kisses, his tongue driving so deeply into her mouth she thought she would choke.

The other men, the other boys.

She loved it.

She could make out for hours, just kissing and kissing and waking up the next morning with her mouth and cheeks raw from stubble from some drunk guy’s unshaved jaw.

But for all that, they didn’t know her. Those mouths did not know her. Not like Ruby’s mouth.

It was Ruby she called before her first date, Ruby she texted with during her first date, and Ruby she called after her first date. It was Ruby she laughed with, cried with, went out with, danced with, got drunk with, and stole wine and keychains with.

When Ruby’s lips touched Ivy’s lips, her mouth parted to let her in. She hesitated, a fleeting moment no sooner here than gone. Of course, Ruby could have her mouth. Of course, Ruby’s tongue was welcome inside her. Of course, Ruby could kiss her. Ruby could kiss her whenever she wanted. Ruby could have her mouth whenever she wanted.

Ruby could have her.

The emotions swirling through Ivy were less contrary than chaotic.

We’re experimenting, she thought.

We’re just playing.

She’s just goofing off.

She felt Ruby’s tender hand on the back of her head, pressing her face irresistibly into her, and she moaned.

She kissed Ruby back playfully, jokingly, teasingly.

No, Ruby’s tongue said. This is real. I want this. I want you. And you want me.

Ruby’s tongue knew her.

Ruby’s tongue knew.

Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me. Show me how much you want this.

Ivy groaned again.

Ivy’s other hand moved over Ruby’s hips, ran up Ruby’s back, rubbed her shoulders and descended her spine; her fingers touched the bare skin of her thighs and slipped beneath the sheer fabric of her teddy, squeezing and massaging the cheeks of her fleshy ass.

Their tongues swirled together, their lips smacked, and the wet sounds of their kisses filled the room, a wet, goopy sound accompanied by moans and plaintive, almost anguished whimpers.

I’m a straight girl, Ivy thought, momentarily confused. I guess I’m bi now. I’m a bi girl.

Ivy’s fingers, already sliding over Ruby’s shaking and hot, secretion-lubricated cunt, slipped inside her friend, one finger, her middle finger. Her longest finger.

Ruby’s tongue danced, performed pirouettes, and did little tours en l’air inside her mouth, and Ivy’s hands explored the wealthy curves of her friend’s ass.

My girlfriend.

I’m her girlfriend now, she realized.

I’m a lesbian.

Her ring finger joined her middle finger as she worked her lover’s pussy, pumping in and out, in and out.

Ruby whined, groaned, gyrated her hips, and shuddered.

When Ivy’s lips parted, and when Ivy’s mouth opened for Ruby’s tongue, it was like fireworks went off in Ruby’s mind, fireworks announcing the grand opening of a new reality.

The image of a memory seized Ruby and flung her mind back, years ago, when she first saw Ivy in 9th grade gym class. Ivy was so small, so spritely, a waif-child surrounded by adolescent girls just beginning to sprout and blossom but already showing the first hesitant outlines of womanhood, Ruby among them.

Oh but god. She was so cute, and Ruby felt so shy and awkward where Ivy charged forward with an enthusiasm countering the bigger girl’s perennial sober mindedness.

Almost immediately they became an item.

That’s the only way you could really put it, but it never ever not even once gotten to this point.

She loved Ivy; she’d always loved Ivy. She loved Ivy the moment she saw her, but.

Ivy loved boys, and Ruby loved boys for Ivy’s sake.

Well, tolerated them.

Learned to appreciate them.

Learned to enjoy their bodies, their, you know. Members.

If only reservedly, if only with that peculiar reservation, that curious aloof distance she maintained with the world, an aloof distance she just assumed was part of the nature of things.

She had Ivy, and when Ivy went off to state, Ruby went with her.

When Ivy found a dorm, Ruby was her dorm mate, and later when Ivy had to get an apartment, Ruby moved in to help pay rent. Bills.

To keep her company.

And to keep away that awful feeling of dread and loneliness that would sometimes overcome her.

She needed Ivy, she loved Ivy, but she never questioned why, and when Ivy’s lips parted to let Ruby’s tongue inside her, she suddenly knew why.

When she felt Ivy’s fingers probe her pussy, when she felt Ivy’s fingers sink deeper and deeper inside her, it was as if something, a large cat, lion-like and fierce, long chained and caged were suddenly unchained and uncaged. It lingered a moment on the grass outside the opened gate of its old cage, scratched the ground, and leapt.

She broke the kiss first.

“Oh god, Ivy. This is just so. I mean. I just want to say.”

Ivy’s lips stopped Ruby in mid-sentence, and Ivy pulled Ruby to the bed which awaited them.

XIV

Somehow the screen attached to the wall opposite the bed turned on. Ivy laughed when Ruby pulled out the remote they had rolled over on. Ruby tossed it on the floor, being careful to aim for the rug, and lay back to let Ivy continue to kiss her tits and suck her nipples.

Her mind was on fire.

Her whole body burned.

And the huge screen on the wall opposite suddenly came to life with video-graphed scenes of lesbian weddings, all taking place in the same venue, showing women in long, diaphanous wedding dresses holding hands, repeating vows, placing rings on each other’s fingers, and finally kissing to the delight of the wedding guests and minister overseeing the ceremony.

Ruby recognized the minister, a woman.

The same woman from the check-in office.

The woman named Sara.

Music underlay the video, the quiet murmuring language of the wedding ceremonies, accompanied by a weird percussive tapping sound. Ruby basked in it, enjoying the images and the sounds, all the while feeling her body increase to levels of arousal she didn’t think possible, surely could never be possible, and when the screen showed the women, the brides in sheer and elegant gown highlighting every secret part of a woman’s body, when the video on the screen showed those brides disrobing to consecrate their wedding vows, Ruby noticed with excitement more than alarm that they did so in this very room, on this very bed.

Maybe they were being recorded right now, she and Ivy?

The thought titillated Ruby, and she pushed Ivy’s head, so delightfully occupied with her tits, down, down, down, to kiss between her legs, to kiss the cleft between her thighs, to lick her greedy pussy, to eat her out like a woman possessed, to eat her dyke whore cunt.

Dyke whore.

The music seemed to take shape and the percussion beat seemed to applaud those thoughts, sealing the words inside Ruby’s mind, etching that idea deep inside Ruby’s consciousness.

I’m a dyke whore.

I’ve always been a total whore.

I’m a slut for girls.

I’m going to marry Ivy.

I’m going to make her my wife, my slutty lesbian wife.

Ruby’s cunt leaked her fluids all over Ivy’s face, and Ivy reveled in the slime, her face gleamed with the secretions from her lover’s vagina, her lover’s vulva, her pie, her pussy, her slit, her quim.

Her dyke cunt.

The music invaded Ivy’s mind, the beat pounded into her mind, and she gradually became aware of the sounds of women having sex, the cries of lesbians in the throes of hot passion, and she wondered who was in the room with them, but she didn’t want to, she couldn’t, left her tongue away from her beloved’s red and steaming lips.

All of a sudden, Ruby flipped over, powerfully gripping Ivy’s face between her thighs as she pinned her face against the bed with her pussy, pounding and grinding her cunt hard against Ivy’s sticky face. Ivy devoured her lover’s juices, flicked her tongue between her lover’s snatch-lips, licking from the bottom of her tangy pussy to the top, flicking her tongue over her clitoral hood, and lapping the well of her vagina, overflowing with secretions, like a hound.

She was in heaven, and Ruby fucked her face hard.

Then Ruby stiffened and rammed her cunt hard against Ivy’s mouth.

She’s so strong, Ivy thought. She’s fucking my face, and I love it.

Ruby cried, a high pitch whine of orgasmic ecstasy, she pitched her hips against Ivy’s face repeatedly, then she collapsed and fell to the side.

When Ivy raised her head, she saw a woman, half-dressed in a torn wedding gown that had fallen to her waist, fucking her bride with a huge black cock hanging from her groin. Her bride, face smashed against the pillows with her ass pointing high, moaned and gasped.

“Oh god, yeah. There. Fuck me. Please, please fuck me.”

Seeing this gave Ivy an idea.

She glanced at the set of strap-on dildos.

“Do you think,” she asked a still-recovering Ruby. “Do you think you could fuck me with one of those?”

Ruby’s mind seemed to hover elsewhere, but she returned Ivy’s smile.

“I was wondering,” she asked without answering Ivy’s question.

Ruby bit her lip and paused.

“Yes?” asked Ivy.

“Would you marry me? Will you be my wife?”

The music burst over the sounds of the two brides cumming in unison, a sonic flurry accompanied by a pulsing beat.

Ivy rolled over on top of Ruby and kissed her repeatedly, floating butterfly kisses all over her body and face.

“Of course. Of course I will. But please, please fuck me with one of those.”

Ruby didn’t wait to be asked a third time.

XV

The following morning found Ruby and Ivy sleeping embraced on a much tussled bed. After her last shuddering orgasm of the night, straddling Ruby’s hips and grinding her greedy cunt up and down along the length of the synthetic cock, Ivy had slowly pulled her used and worn pussy from the toy and collapsed against Ruby’s side, petting and caressing her new lover, her fiancé.

She asked me to marry her, she thought. And I said yes. She’s going to marry me. I’m going to be a wife. Her wife.

Ivy leaned forward and kissed a breast, then lifted her lips to Ruby’s still panting mouth, kissing her lightly and gently.

“I love you,” she had said.

When Ruby moved to remove her straps, Ivy touched her hand.

“No, don’t. I want to feel it on you. I want to feel it against me when I sleep. Oh god, I can’t believe we’re really doing this.”

Ivy looked away for a moment, the video on the wall still showed the two brides in the throes of deep and wild passion, the one on ass up while the other continued pounding her, gently at times, not so gently at others. Ivy smiled wistfully.

Then she sighed.

“Finally.”

Now the morning sun filtered around the dark, wine-red curtain blocking the day from the honeymoon suite of the pink roadside motel. Ivy stirred in her waking sleep, shifting her left hand to find Ruby’s long shaft, and she ran her hand along the funk-covered surface, so much like a real cock, but somehow better because of Ruby.

She shifted her small body over her fiancé, spread her thighs, held the tip of the cock against her hole, and settled slowly down its length, shuddering with lust and delight and joy.

I’m going to be a wife.

I’m fucking my husband. I’m going to fuck my husband until she wakes up.

I wonder if this place has breakfast. I need to make her breakfast.

She sank until her pussy bottomed out against Ruby’s leather straps.

Oh my fucking god.

She massaged her fiancé’s tits, so much larger than her own, as they should be, stroking and pinching the nipples playfully and tenderly until finally Ruby stirred, opened her eyes, and began pumping her hips into her bride to be.

“I’m hungry,” Ruby said.

“Fuck me first,” Ivy begged. “I’ll see what I can find for you. Maybe this place has something.”

She did. She fucked her, and when they both came, they shuffled out of bed, dressed half-hearted, throwing on their tees and shorts, sundress and flip-flops and sneakers.

They walked down the hall, hand in hand, to find a small room just beyond an arch in pink stucco where a small table was set up to the side of three or four small round purple tables with pink folding chairs.

Juices, huevos rancheros, tatas, frijoles, tortillas. And pico de gallo. Milk, coffee.

Sara stood behind the table and beamed when she saw her two guests, so clearly in love, and so clearly, so very clearly well-fucked. She loved to see that. Oh god, she just loved to see that.

Though neither Ruby nor Ivy could know it, Sara had changed considerably from the teenager she used to be. Her hair still hung long, braided, and lush, its deep auburn luster still breath-taking in its radiant beauty, but lines of care and sorrow touched her eyes, and her body had filled, fulfilling its early promise of voluptuosity.

Her face still shown with that weird vividity she had as a young woman, but her angles had curiously softened somewhat, although she still observed the world with that same feline regard. She wore a deep purple outfit, something like a uniform, a deep purple blouse and slacks, trousers which hugged the swell of her hips, and a blouse which strained to contain her prominent bosom.

She looked altogether matron-like, maternal in every sense of the word, and neither Ruby nor Ivy could resist the sudden urge to hug her, to embrace her, when she stepped from behind the breakfast table.

“Oh my,” Sara Craft said cheerfully, who, at an even five feet, still had to look up slightly even at the diminutive Ivy, not to mention the taller and larger Ruby. Ivy’s hands lingered on Sara’s soft body, slowly drifting towards and over her round hips to casually and incidentally caress the woman’s ass. She kissed the side of Sara’s lips, and when Sara moved her face to touch her mouth directly with her parted lips, Ivy opened her mouth to let Sara briefly slide her tongue inside.

Sara gripped Ivy’s ass, pulled her tightly against her, then released her suddenly as Ruby stepped forward for her turn to kiss the owner of the Pink Venus Inn.

Neither girl thought anything of it; neither girl felt any surprise whatsoever that they should behave so oddly and so intimately with a strange woman, and the thought, the realization hit them with a sudden and irrevocable truth: they were lesbian sluts.

I’m a lesbian slut now, thought Ivy.

Just a total dyke whore, mused Ruby.

No doubt in their minds lingered in the slightest that they loved each other and loved each other deeply; last night’s union, so inexplicably forged, and last night’s fire, so undeniably lit, was theirs for the foreseeable future.

Neither one of them needed to say this.

But holding the woman Sara, and gazing into the woman Sara’s eyes, kissing the woman Sara’s lips, the truth of their coming lesbian debauchery erupted in their minds in all its earth-shattering portent.

Just total lesbian sluts, really.

It’s what they were.

What they’d always been.

And they both just as suddenly realized that the woman Sara, this gorgeous, electrifying, and just totally superhot sexy mama, needed to join them in bed as quickly as possible because they both (Ruby and Ivy) really, absolutely, and quite sincerely needed to taste her.

But all that had to wait.

Sara squeezed Ruby’s ass, gave her one last lingering kiss, and directed them to their table.

“I’ll get your breakfast. You two just sit down now. Today’s going to be your special day, after all.”

Ruby looked surprised. Her mouth opened, and she raised an eyebrow.

“You know? But how? Yesterday I didn’t even, we didn’t even, but last night. It was just so.”

A plate of eggs, potatoes, salsa, and beans were set in front of them, along with a glass of juice.

“Of course I knew, honey. It’s what I planned. It’s what the chapel’s here for. For women just like you and Ivy. You belonged to each other, it was obvious the moment you walked into my motel. Now eat your breakfast, and when you’re finished, we’ll go look over the gowns. I’ve got such lovely gowns for the both of you.”

She winked at Ruby.

“I have just the naughtiest tuxedo for you, if that’s what you prefer. It shows everything.”

Ivy gulped, choked, and spluttered. A vision of Ruby in a naughty tuxedo instantly rose in her mind, a naughty tuxedo showing everything. God. She couldn’t get enough of seeing everything. Of touching everything. Of tasting everything.

Would she wear that fantastic cock of hers at the wedding?

But Ruby peered at Sara.

“You have wedding clothes here?”

“Of course, sweetie. You two ran out so quickly yesterday I didn’t get a chance to show you, but they’re all absolutely lovely. Just so incredibly. Scandalous.”

Needless to say, both girls quickly finished their breakfasts.

XVI

The sun had passed noon, beginning its slow western decline.

The interior of the chapel glimmered in pink and purple and soft pastels of yellow, blue, green, and red where the sunlight entered through bizarre stained glass featuring scenes of a story Ruby didn’t recognize.

The young woman idly caressed the glittering purple shaft of the strap-on cock protruding lewdly from her pelvis and studied the images in the glass, somehow unconcerned with her near state of undress in the presence of her small audience.

There were two people sitting in the front pews of the chapel, maybe in their fifties, it was hard for her to say. One of them, a man, had no hair on his head, and the other, a woman, seemed to eclipse him as she sat next to him, a tall, broad woman with dark hair and dark, horned-rimmed glasses.

The tuxedo she had chosen was indeed scandalous. A sheer corset, partially cutout at the top to both expose and support her breasts, was worn under a short, shimmering black tuxedo, coattails buttoned to just above the waist to reveal diaphanous black slacks, cut out at the seat to expose her ass.

Ruby wore tall high heel boots, glittering and sparkling and black, rising just to her knees, into which her tuxedo trousers had been tucked.

Her long red brown hair had been braided and pulled back from her forehead to give her a severe but sensual look, and her face was elegantly and erotically made up, bright red lipstick accentuating her full lips. Sensual smoky eyeshadow set off her eyes, outlined in liner and dark mascara.

She waited impatiently for her bride to appear, passing the time to stare at the bizarre scenes portrayed in the stained glass.

They were weird, that’s all she could say about them.

There were glass panels showing highly stylized images of lesbians, many of whom looked to be teenagers, fucking each other on long dildos or licking between each other’s thighs, embracing each other with open mouths locked onto each other. There was a huge panel of what looked to be an all-female mass orgy in a gymnasium being attacked by a giant red octopus.

Smaller panels showed white Toyotas surrounded men in white button-up shirts and black slacks, one of whom loomed head and shoulders above the others. Some panels showed pink clouds and pink honeycombs from which faces of severe librarians emerged, hair coifed in fantastic beehives.

But the centerpiece of the all the panels, by far the largest panel in the pink chapel, portrayed someone who took Ruby’s breath away.

It filled the center of the wall behind Ruby, behind the odd altar and pulpit with its two double Venus symbols standing erect from the top of what looked to be an immense clay pot from which a narrow fountain of pink-colored water fell down to collect in a shallow basin.

A striking young woman with long wild blonde hair, at once platinum and golden yellow, stood with arms outstretched and raised, her legs were parted, showing a bright golden bush of pubic hair flaming like a wildfire between her legs, and she wore a pink, sheer to the point of being transparent, babydoll negligée, much like the one Ivy had worn last night.

Her lips were pink, and her nails were pink, and blue eyeshadow shimmered metallic above her eyes. A pink aura surrounded her, and she hovered above what looked to be the same red octopus now rendered pink.

For a brief moment, just a couple of seconds, the girl seemed to move or to grow, to change shape into something enormous and lovely. Then the vision, or whatever it was, passed. A weird, uncanny sensation buzzed through Ruby, a weird feeling of recollection or recognition, and then that sensation, too, passed.

The girl in the stained glass seemed familiar to Ruby; she wanted to know her, and in many ways, in many inexplicable ways, Ruby had the feeling that she did know her. Ruby grew dizzy, stumbled, and had to look away.

“Ah,” said the man sitting in the front row. “You’ll need to ask Sara about that one. She might tell you. Then again. She might not.”

The woman sitting next to him nudged him with an elbow.

“Pshaw,” she said. But she didn’t say anything else.

At that moment the doors to the chapel opened.

Ivy, all dressed in white, entered.

Her gown, as equally scandalous as Ruby’s tuxedo, revealed the whimsical contours of Ivy’s body, showing glimpses her small and precious tits, catching the sway of her impish hips, the gap between her thighs as she walked down the aisle.

Ruby caught her breath and swallowed.

My god.

Sara accompanied her, inserting her arm inside Ivy’s arm to lead her to her bridegroom standing impatiently at the altar.

Ruby saw her bride, and she smiled.

My god. Has anyone ever seen, has anyone ever had, such a beautiful girl for a wife?

XVII

The ceremony was over, had been over, and the consummation had been exquisite, wonderful, and ravishing beyond words to describe, and when it was over, all three women fell arm in arm into a deep and peaceful sleep, exhausted by their many, many orgasms.

Sara woke first, delighted to feel Ivy’s arms wrapped around her as she cradled Ruby’s face in her hands. She kissed Ruby on the mouth and scrambled out of bed.

The old girl’s still got it in her, she chuckled.

She quietly left the honeymoon suite and went to her office.

She had papers to fill out, arrangements to finalize.

But everything had been prepared beforehand.

Most of it.

All she really needed was the right couple.

And she’d found them.

God, could anybody be more adorable, she wondered.

That Ivy.

Wouldn’t have Wendy just had so much fun with her?

Stop it.

XVIII

Sara looked serious when Ivy and Ruby finally stumbled out of their room.

She allowed them just enough time to eat and drink.

Bottles of Pink Water stood on the counter, and both girls eagerly grabbed one.

“The thing is,” Sara said. “I can’t stay here any longer. As you know, I’m not from around here, and I’ve got other matters to attend to.”

Ruby and Ivy listened attentively.

“So you see, I’ve got everything already worked out. All you need to do is sign. Vicki here is a notary, so that won’t be a problem. She and her,” and here Sara shook her head, “man have already been witnesses. It’s all legal. I checked. I promise. All you two have to do is sign. So what do you say?”

Ivy pursed her lips thoughtfully, and Ruby’s eyebrows furled.

Did they really want this?

Then Ivy turned to Ruby and gushed.

“Oh, Ruby. Please? Please? Can we?”

Ruby melted.

Of course they could.

They had to.

Soon all the papers were signed, and Sara left, driving her Mercedes west with Victoria and Moby in the back seat.

Meanwhile, Ivy thumbed through the booklet Sara had left them, the one explaining their new chapel and how to maintain it.

“Wow,” she said, looking up at Ruby. “Talk about love. She made an entire religion out of this Wendy chick.”

“Hmm,” Ruby replied. “I wonder how many guests this motel gets. Seems like we could drive more traffic here.”