Sara and Abby (Sara's Summer Abroad) (2 page)

            Abby
leaned back, slowly running her hand over her bare stomach.  “No, I don’t mean
that.  I mean….”  Abby’s voice trailed off as she stared into Sara’s eyes.

            Sara
looked up to meet Abby’s eyes.  They seemed wider than usual, almost pleading. 
Sara sat down beside to Abby, leaning back against the wall, and putting her
hand on Abby’s thigh reassuringly.  “I’m not sure what you mean, Abby.”

            Abby
paused, then looked up again at Sara.  “The other night – I can’t stop thinking
about it.  I hope you don’t mind.”

            Sara
smiled slightly.  “No.  Those thoughts have crossed my mind, too.” 

            “Good,”
Abby suddenly perked up, and sat up.  “I was worried that I was … well, I
didn’t want to become an emotional burden, or anything.”

            “Abby,
you’d have to work pretty hard at it to become a burden.”  Sara felt her heart
begin to quicken at the sensation of Abby’s thigh.  Sara rubbed it slowly,
lightly.

            Abby
turned to Sara, and the silence filled the room.  “Can I kiss you?”

            Sara
leaned in, slowly, and kissed Abby lightly on the cheek.  Abby paused after
this, staring into Sara’s eyes.  Abby leaned in, more slowly, and began to lick
Sara’s lips.  Sara felt her heart race, and her hand slide up Abby’s thigh.

            Abby
slowly caressed Sara’s cheek, then lifted Sara’s chin and began to lick Sara’s
neck.  Sara closed her eyes, the warmth in her stomach swelling.  Sara leaned
back, her head against the wall.  Abby’s hand fell from Sara’s cheek, and
caressed Sara’s breast through her t-shirt.  Sara jumped, feeling her nipple
harden, and a shockwave bolted from her nipple to her pussy.  Sara was getting
wet.

            Abby
licked and kissed Sara’s neck, her mouth slowly sliding downward, onto the top
of Sara’s chest.  Abby’s hand slid down, then under Sara’s shirt, lifting it,
and exposing her bra.  Abby pinched Sara’s nipple hard.  Sara moaned softly.

            Abby
broke away a moment later.  “You showed me last time.  I loved it.  Now, I want
to show you.”  Abby pulled her halter top over hear head, exposing her
breasts.  She slid her pajamas down, kicking them off to the side.

            Sara’s
eyes widened as she realized that Abby wore nothing underneath.  “Abby!  Do you
always forget your underwear?”

            “Only
when I want someone,” Abby purred, leaning back again, and slowly sliding her
finger across her moist, swollen slit.  “Come with me,” Abby hissed.  “I want
to see you come again.”

            Sara
felt her stomach tighten at these words.  Nobody had ever said that to her
before.  It sounded delicious.  Abby tugged Sara’s t-shirt off, and grabbed at Sara’s
jeans, unbuttoning them.  Sara slid her hand down her pants.

            Abby
grabbed the top of Sara’s jeans, and pulled hard, tugging them down to Sara’s
thighs.  Sara wriggled a bit, and kicked the jeans off, then reached around and
unclasped her bra.  The cool air felt wonderful on her hard nipples. 

            “C’mon,
kid, keep up,” Abby chided.

            Dutifully,
Sara wriggled out of her panties, and sat down next to Abby, as Abby began to
finger herself slowly.  Sara ran her hands over her breasts, sending waves of
warmth through her chest, into her stomach.

            “Hang
on.  I have something for us,” Abby grinned, as she got off the bed, and pulled
a bottle of something out of her pajama bottoms.  

            “What
is it?”

            “You’ll
see.  Lay down.  You need a massage.”

            Sara
did as she was told – what was it about anything Abby requested? – and
shuddered as she felt the cool baby oil drip onto her back.

            “Oooo. 
That’s cold,” Sara shuddered.

            “It
won’t be for long.”  Abby began to massage Sara’s back slowly, running her
hands down Sara’s spine.  Sara moaned as Abby slid lower and lower towards
Sara’s ass each time Abby slid her hands down Sara’s back.

            “You’re
beautiful, Sara,” Abby whispered.  Sara closed her eyes, feeling her pussy
swell.

             Abby’s
hands massaged Sara’s ass, then slid down to her thighs.  Sara felt more oil
pour onto her thighs, and Abby begin to massage each thigh with a separate
hand.  Sara felt on fire.  Her stomach was warm, almost throbbing, and her
nipples slid against the bedding as Abby rubbed, causing them to harden more,
and sending waves of warmth through Sara. 

            “Now,
you do me,” Abby cooed, as she fell face first onto the bed.  Slowly Sara came
back to her senses, and realized it was her turn.  Sara knelt up, straddled
Abby’s thighs, and poured some oil onto Abby’s back, rubbing slowly, in small
circles, up Abby’s back.  Abby put her hands under her head, and moaned softly.

            There
was an artistic quality to the curve of Abby’s back, and Sara stared at it,
mesmerized.  She began to slide her hands slowly up and down Abby’s back, her
fingers grazing the sides of Abby’s breasts.  Sara grabbed Abby’s hips, pulling
slightly, and smelled Abby’s scent as it wafted upward.  Sara poured oil onto
Abby’s ass, and watched the droplets slide languidly down Abby’s hips.  Sara
began to massage Abby’s ass.

            “Mmmm. 
That feels so good,” Abby cooed, closing her eyes, and pushing her ass up
slightly.

            Sara’s
thumbs slid into the middle of Abby’s ass, parting her cheeks slightly, and
exposing Abby’s ass and pussy.  There were three small droplets on the lips of
Abby’s pussy.  Sara smiled to herself as she slid her hands down Abby’s
thighs. 

            Suddenly,
Abby flipped over, onto her back, and sat up, grabbing the bottle of oil. 
“Now, I want to show you.”  Abby leaned back against the wall, her knees next
to her face, as she poured the oil generously over her breasts.  Sara watched
it drip quickly down Abby’s tummy, into her crotch.  Sara sat back, and pinched
her nipples.

            Abby
tossed the bottle to Sara.  “Your turn,” Abby grinned.  Sara took the bottle,
and poured it over her breasts, rubbing them slowly.  The feeling was
electric.  Sara arched her back, closing her eyes and moaning softly.

            When
Sara opened her eyes again, she saw Abby, on her back, lifting her hips toward
Sara.  Abby’s two fingers eagerly slid in and out of Abby’s pussy, squishing
loudly.  Sara wondered if anyone would hear.

            Sara
slowly encircled her swollen clit with her finger, stretching her legs out on
the bed.  When Sara looked up, she noticed Abby, her head lolled back, inching
her hips slowly toward Sara. 

“Mmmmm,” Sara
moaned softly.  As Abby’s hips approached Sara’s face, Sara felt her heart
race, and her pussy swell.  Sara slid a finger inside.

Abby
began to moan rhythmically, in time with her fingers, as they pumped her
pussy.  Abby’s pussy was now inches from Sara’s face.  Sara looked up, and
startled a bit, but her body was beginning to tighten, and Sara was unable to
show her surprise outwardly. 

            “Oh,
God, Abby, I’m going to come,” Sara hissed though half-whispered breath.

            Abby
knelt onto her knees, her pussy still inches from Sara’s face.  Sara noticed
Abby’s lips begin to quiver slightly as Sara tugged hard against the upper wall
of her pussy with her fingers.  Sara’s stomach tightened immediately, and her
heart raced as if it would pound out of her chest.  When Sara’s thumb grazed
her swollen clit, Sara felt her body letting go.

            “Mmmm….Oh…..fuck…..”
Sara moaned, lost.

            Suddenly,
Sara felt something moist against her lips.  She opened her eyes, to see Abby’s
pussy grinding against her mouth.  Instinctively, Sara grabbed Abby’s hips, to
help steady her.  When Sara realized what was happening, she stuck her tongue
out, darting inside Abby’s lips as Abby encircled her own clit.

            “That’s
it, baby.  This is what I’ve been dreaming about,” Abby whispered, grinding her
pussy into Sara’s face

            Sara
had never experienced this before.  She hoped she wouldn’t disappoint Abby.  It
tasted … different.  Not odd, but just unique.  Sara smiled to herself as she
licked up, over Abby’s front wall, and Abby shuddered, grinding herself
furiously against Sara.

            “Oh….God….Yes!” 
Abby screamed, her pussy quivering against Sara’s tongue.  Apparently, Sara’s
tongue was doing what it was supposed to.  Sara became more assured, and began
lapping hungrily at Abby’s pussy, as Abby moaned loudly, then suddenly
collapsed onto the bed.

            “Damn,”
Abby panted.  “And I’m supposed to be the first woman you’ve ever been with?”

            “
’fraid so, but I want to learn more,”  Sara smiled.  It was new, to bring
someone to orgasm with her tongue.  Sara felt empowered.  This was something
she didn’t realize she could do.  It was heady to think that Sara could give
this much pleasure just with her tongue.

            “Well,
you’ve found just the right friend.  I’m a great teacher, I’ve been told,” Abby
offered, matter-of-factly.

            Sara
awoke the next morning, still naked.  As she sat up, she realized how
disappointed she was that Abby hadn’t stayed.  Abby had left, saying she didn’t
want to “raise any more suspicions.”  Sara figured that anyone with a suspicion
could simply stand in the hallway and hear Abby moaning, and have their
suspicion confirmed easily.  Maybe it was for the best.  This was a six-week
trip, after all, and it was important not to offend the Oxford hosts. 

            Sara
stumbled out of bed, and tugged her jeans on, and grabbed a white button-down
shirt from the dresser.  She looked at the clock – 6:00 a.m., her normal time
to rise.  She slipped into her sandals, and wandered out in to the courtyard,
and then into the street.  There was an eerie calm over the town.  There was a
slight chill in the air, and a dense fog.  Sara ambled down the cobblestone
sidewalk, thinking.

            Things
sure had gotten more active lately; her first girl, her first professor, her
first threesome.  It was sort of a sexual global warming; her horizons were
expanding so fast, they were being swallowed up by the heated ocean waters.   
Sara wondered whether she was discovering something about herself, or just
having a fling.  Usually, when she wondered whether one of two things caused a
third, it turned out a combination of the two things was the actual cause.  So,
by that reasoning, Sara was discovering herself and having a fling.  Nothing
wrong with that, she supposed.  On the other hand, what if she was a lesbian,
and never really knew it?  What if she were a slut, and never knew it?  Sara
stopped in front of the window of a pastry shop that was just opening up.  The
smell of the fresh baked goods enveloped her, and the owner waved for her to
come inside.

            “Chill
of a day out there, mate,” the fat man behind the counter greeted.

            “It
is.  But smelling your pastries makes up for it,” Sara smiled.  Sara knew the
owner appreciated her compliment.  Sara was good at that; getting on someone’s
good side quickly.

            “I’ll
have a coffee and a cream-filled scone, thanks.”  The owner quickly gathered
the snack, and set them down at a small counter where Sara sat down.

            “I
detect an American, eh?” the owner said. 

            “Yes,
I confess.  I hope I don’t come across too boorish, or anything.”

            “Not
at all, pet.  You here at Oxford, studying?”

            “Yes. 
How did you know?”  Sara asked.

            “I
see a good lot of you, each summer.  You’re looking a bit down in the dumps. 
Maybe you’ve done some things during this lark you aren’t sure of.  There’s one
or two each summer.  It’s okay, pet.  You’re here to broaden your horizons.”

            Sara
looked at the owner quizzically.  “You haven’t been on the ‘phone to my mother,
have you?” 

            The
owner smiled, and held out his hand.  “Devin’s the name.  I been doing this for
about twenty years or so.  It’s a bit of a routine.  Don’t be so hard on
yourself.  Just enjoy yourself.  You American’s are too quick to guilt.”

            Sara
shook Devin’s hand lightly.  “Pleasure, Devin.  And I suppose you’re onto something
with the ‘too quick to guilt’ stuff.  I do kind of feel guilty.”

            “Well,
whatever it is, it takes experience to define yourself.  Remember that.  Let
the experiences happen, and let them affect you how they may.”

            Sara
bit into her pastry.  It was still warm.

            “You
know, it’s sort of ironic that I’m feeling guilty, and I happen across you,
selling pastries, which only makes me feel like I’m indulging myself even more
than I should.”

            “I
know, lass.  Believe it or not, that’s part of why I went into the business. 
People don’t indulge themselves enough.  Life is short; made up of little
moments.  If you don’t take time to indulge yourself, it’s all over before you
know it, and then, what’s the point?” 

            Sara
thought as she sipped her coffee, arriving at a conclusion.  “Devin, you’re one
of the wisest pastry chefs I’ve ever met.”  She smiled broadly at him, thankful
for his perspective, and reassured by the providence that caused her to
encounter it.  “I need to get ready for classes, but I think we’ll be friends.”

            “Oh,
but I think we already are, lass,” Devin smiled.  “You study hard.”

            *          *          *

            Sara
sat down in the conference room, refreshed and eager to learn.  Professor Evans
introduced a Mr. Caldwell, a “solicitor”.  Seems as though he was one of the
“grunts” of the legal profession; the barristers tried all the cases, and the
solicitors stayerd in their offices, tending to everything else.  Sara worried
sometimes that her life as a lawyer wouldn’t allow time for anything.  A career
as a solicitor was definitely out, then.  The poor man regularly worked ten to
twelve hour days, always behind a desk.  Sara wondered if Mr. Caldwell
understood this when he entered law school as a younger man.

            Abby
leaned over toward Sara.  “Missed you this morning at breakfast.  Everything
okay?” she whispered.  Sara turned to her and nodded.  “See me after class. 
We’ll talk over lunch.”

            After
reviewing a few published cases that Mr. Caldwell had been involved in, class
was dismissed, and the group headed for lunch.

            “So,
what’s the deal,” Abby bounded out beside Sara.

            “I
hadn’t done it in a while, so I got up early this morning, and took a walk.  I
met a very interesting pastry chef.  Devin.  HE was wise beyond his years.  We
had a good conversation over coffee.  You should meet him.  And you should stay
over, too.”

            “Well,
sorry.  I wanted to, but I just don’t want to cause any trouble,” Abby
confessed.  “And I’m not much of a morning person.  Maybe I’ll be able to drag
myself out of bed one morning, and we can check this guy out.”

            “Maybe,”
Sara smiled, and sat down at the long lunch table.  Waiters filled her plate
with lasagna immediately, and silently. 

             “My,
this is impressive,” Sara opined. 

            “You
bought it, so enjoy it,” Abby counseled. 

            “Actually,
my parents bought it.”

            “Well,
you could just enjoy it anyway.”

            Meals
were getting easier.  Initially, Sara was bothered by all the fuss during
mealtime.  Everything was served impeccably, and immediately.  Nothing in
Sara’s life had ever been impeccable, or immediate.  Why all the sudden did she
deserve all this?  Maybe she didn’t.  Sara decided it wasn’t a lifestyle, but
for the summer, it probably wouldn’t spoil her too badly.

            Sara
spent the afternoon in the Bodlean, a beautiful library if ever there was one. 
It smelled wonderfully – of old books and dust.  It was absolutely quiet, too. 
Sara found a study carol in a windowless corner, and lost herself in more
Dworkin.  Sara always enjoyed losing herself in a task.  Things went faster,
and good things just seemed to happen when she devoted herself thoroughly.

            Sarah
finished her summary of the book, and got up to walk back to school.  She
walked past an art gallery, then the book store, a coffee shop, and Devin’s
pastry shop. She stopped in to visit.  Devin was behind the counter, and beamed
when she entered.

            “Hello,
lass.  You look better.   What can I do you for?”

            “I
just wanted a cup of coffee, and I wanted to know if you’re always open early in
the morning.”

            “Just
a second.”  Devin turned and set a cup of coffee onto the nearby counter. 
“Well, usually I’m up and here by six.  I’ve gotten up at five since I had a
paper route.  I just can’t sleep past then anymore.  Anyway, I’m here by six
every Monday through Friday.  Saturdays I stay for the morning with the kids,
and I’m here by nine.”

            “Well,
I might just bring a friend or two by.  I think you have a good head on your
shoulders, and I want some of my friends to meet you.”

            “You’re
too kind, lass.  Always welcome, but too kind.”

            *          *          *

            Dinner
was remarkable.  Just as Sara was allowing herself to be served in the manner
customary to all who attend Oxford, she encounters this:  an entire boys’ choir,
singing at the end of the dining hall.  The sound was new to Sara; innocent and
haunting at the same time.  Sara asked the wait staff, and discovered the choir
was from the local church.  Sara made a mental note to see if they were
performing Sunday morning.  It was beautiful beyond words for Sara, but she ate
quietly, wondering whether she deserved it.

            Sara
walked alone across the lawn after dinner, and heard Chopin playing in the
distance.  She recognized the tune, as one she adored, and one that Professor
Evans had perfected.  She walked toward the music, and knocked on the door of
the piano room.

            “Can
I …. Oh.  Sara.  I didn’t realize it was you.”  Professor Evans peeked through
the doorway.

            “Can
I listen?  I promise I won’t interfere.”

            Professor
Evans smiled, and pulled a chair alongside the piano.  “It’s good to see you,
Sara,” he admitted.

            Professor
Evans then launched into Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata.”  Sara closed her eyes,
letting the music wash over her.  This was one of her favorite pieces, and Sara
felt her heart swelling with emotion.  The music elevated Sara, until she felt
like she was floating through the night.  Suddenly, Professor Evans launched
into the second movement – a tone poem of a storm – and startled Sara from her
reverie.  Professor Evans played it expertly, his fingers dancing on the keys
with a mind of their own, as Sara watched.  She recognized this feeling – this
heaviness in her heart.  It was the same feeling she felt the night she and
Professor Evans spent together.  That was odd.  Sara had often felt this way
listening to music, but until now, her feelings for Professor Evans puzzled
her.  What was the connection between this music, and her feelings toward
Professor Evans?  Why did they feel the same?  As Professor Evans launched into
a slow rendition of “Amazing Grace,” Sara forgot her thoughts, and lost herself
in the music.

            *          *          *

            Back
in her room, Sara held her cell phone to her cheek, and listened for the ring. 
True to form, her mother answered on the first ring.

            “Hello.”

            “Mom? 
It’s me.”

            “Sara! 
Oh, honey, it’s so good to hear you.  How are you?”

            “Well,
I’m good.  I’ve met a lot of new friends.”  Little did Mother know.

            “How
are your classes?”  That was mother, always getting to the accomplishments. 

            “They’re
fine. They’re not hard at all.  I just have to do a paper by the end of the
term on legal philosophy.  It’s not a big deal.  They don’t grade it anyway;
you just get comments back, apparently.” 

            “Well,
these people are the people you will compete against in law school, so take it
seriously, please,” Sara’s mother cautioned.  “So, are you making any friends?”

            Sara
paused, half considering whether to tell her mother the entire truth – ‘Yeah, I
fucked my professor, and Abby, the girl down the hall, and I had my first
threesome’ – but Sara decided against it.  “Yes, everyone here is quite
friendly, and the staff here treats me very well.”

            “Well,
good.  Do you feel like your horizons are expanding?”