Noises Through the Wall

Noises Through the Wall—Revised Again

July, the first year

9. Lindsay entertains. Kelly hears things she shouldn't, then visits Jeni.

This is an odd story. I felt like I needed to include it chronologically as things developed in this series, but there wasn't any real sex, and this is Literotica, after all. So, I submitted it as a non-erotic story, but then it won the editor's choice designation, and they changed it to the exhibitionists and voyeurs section, but then it got the worst rating from readers of any story I had submitted. Ack!

So, anyway, I added what happened the next day, for those of you who prefer their erotica with more sex. Maybe you'll like it better now. Thanks.

I enjoyed the walk home that night. The day had been warm and sunny without being too hot to enjoy being outside, and by late evening it was still just sweater weather, if that. I had a job as a waitress for the summer, so my days were free to study. Tom was on the river, and he had left me the Jeep to drive while he was away, but I liked walking. I was wearing the short black skirt and white blouse that were my uniform with my sweater slung over my shoulders. My heels were in my backpack, as I had changed to trainers for the walk home.

We, Lindsay and I, thought it would be funny, the first time Tom left on a trip, if Lindsay dropped him off at the warehouse and I picked him up when it was over. We girls wanted to cause talk. I think Tom liked the idea, having the other guides know he had two girlfriends. I don't know if he got teased about it though, or the other guides were envious, or disgusted, or if it screwed up his chances to get laid on the trip. It just wasn't as cute as we thought it would, so after that first time, I made the drive to drop him off and pick him up. I was just back from one of those runs.

I wondered if it was all my fault that those trips hadn't worked out. Iwanted people to know we were a trio. I was proud of our relationship. Wasn't she? Or was I just arrogant and naïve and stupidly young?

Lindsay seemed to assume that Tom would be with other girls on his trips. Two weeks on the river with a bronzed river guide who played the guitar and sang, and all those topless girls from Boston and New York and Chicago rolling over and spreading their legs.

I was sure that wasn't true. Even if other women did throw themselves at Tom, he would spurn their advances because he was as in love as I was. As we were. I was convinced that the three of us were going to live happily ever after. I was ecstatic. I was in love with two people. I was having the best sex imaginable.

I was also discovering I had an excellent eye for photographing nudes. I took modeling assignments myself, which was sensational for my self-esteem and my pocketbook. I had a new best friend from Slovakia who was insane. The only bad part at all was that Tom was away for two weeks or more at a time during the summer, but Lindsay and I kept each other company. True, she was not one for getting dressed up and going dancing or even to movies often. My insane friend, Yana, loved to do those things, so I would sometimes go out with her without my girlfriend. Lindsay didn't mind that so much, but she didn't like Yana. It wasn't jealousy though, just that they didn't get along. Yana can be hard to take, I know. I loved Lindsay and Tom, and there was no question of my messing around. And I didn't think Tom was messing around either, no matter what Lindsay might say. Those girls from New York and Boston couldn't really run around topless on a commercial river trip, could they?

Our schedules weren't quite a perfect match. Lindsay was coaching at a volleyball camp for high school players. The two-week sessions had begun in mid-June, as the schools let out for the summer, but she had worked a lot to set it up. I worked mostly at night at the restaurant, with occasional modeling assignments from an artist or photographer or art classes at school. It was figure modeling. Lindsay couldn't stay out too late, most nights. Still, for my first summer living with someone—my lover someone—I was loving life and floating.

There was a strange car was pulled into the driveway behind the Jeep. Lindsay's car was at the curb.

I entered through the kitchen, like I always do, moving around into the living room, dropping my backpack off on the way. Lindsay was sitting on the couch with her company.

I knew our visitor with my first look at her. I had heard so much about her and knew so little. I had never seen a picture of her, never heard her described. But I knew. She was Jan.

When Lindsay was a freshman, she and Jan became lovers. Their affair was Lindsay's first real relationship with another woman. There was something painful about it that I had never been able to get Lindsay to talk about, other than to say it ended when Jan graduated. Tom seemed to know more, which made me sad. I should know what he knew, shouldn't I? And now there Jan was in my home. Just visiting? Coincidence? She knew where Lindsay lived. She had driven here. She was in my home. She was in my home because she had been invited into my home.

I was suddenly, horribly, irrationally and oh so justifiably jealous.

"Hi," I said as I joined them, sliding into the chair opposite of where they sat together on the couch. "We weren't busy, so they let me off early." They might have been holding hands when I came in. I didn't see them holding hands, they just might have been.

Lindsay made the introductions. Old lover checked out new lover. New lover checked out the old one. Oh, joy! Happy happy happy. Jan was big. I couldn't tell how tall she was, but I thought she must be at least my 5'9". But that is not what I mean by big. She wasn't fat. I wish she were. Heavy, certainly, but not fat. More... like a fucking troll. No, no. That is not kind or even called for. She had a mullet. She had high thick shoulders and almost no neck. She looked like she could pick me up and break me in two if she had even the least inclination.

I was still new at dealing with the whole liking girls thing, but none of the girls I was attracted to looked like Jan. Was I horrid? I don't often wear lipstick myself, but wasn't I more like a lipstick lesbian? Are there lipstick bisexuals, or is that just redundant? I tried to tell myself I found Jan unattractive because she had broken Lindsay's heart. I couldn't see that as remotely true even trying to convince myself. Nope. She was just flat out unattractive to me.

Jealousy.

Lindsay asked a question. Maybe it was a confession. "I thought you were going out with that Polish girl after work."

I felt the dig. "Yana is Slovak. And she's studying. Test tomorrow." Unlike either Lindsay or me, Yana was taking summer classes. Her student Visa didn't allow her to work. (Which was why being paid cash for modeling was how we met.)

"Jan is going to be helping out with the camp now that her school is out," Lindsay was saying, changing the subject too quickly.

That explained a lot. Like why she had mentioned it right away, first thing, as soon as she had found out, like weeks ago?

"Oh," I heard myself cooing in a way too sweet voice, "that must be great fun for you." I sounded like an idiot.

Jan nodded her big old head. "I have been coaching high school for two years now. This is a great chance to expand my skills and work with a lot of talented girls."

I nodded and agreed it that it must indeed, like I had the slightest idea that I knew such a thing. I have never been an athlete. I never even dated an athlete before Lindsay. Not even a boy athlete.

I guess everyone has heard the stereotype that all girl jocks are gay. It isn't true, of course. Just some of them. Maybe a lot of them. At least half of Lindsay's volleyball team. And of course Lindsay was. Did the girls in camp know some of their coaches were lesbian? Were some of the girls themselves? They must be.

I remember a few girls I went to high school with talking about finding out their middle school coach was lesbian when I was visiting my mother last summer. They acted like they had been violated somehow, because the woman had been in the lockers with them when they were changing. I didn't quite understand it. This had happened even before I accepted that I would love making love to another woman the way that I do. I wonder if there is any relation. I just thought their attitudes were provincial.

We sat there, my lover, her former lover, and I, in ever so polite conversation for what seemed like forever. I wondered when Jan would go home. I tried yawning a few times, to see if she would take the hint.

Hey, jealousy.

Instead, Lindsay said, "Kel, I told Jan she could spend the night here. She can't move into her apartment until the weekend."

I tried not to show how this news startled me. We have two bedrooms. One was "our" bedroom; the other was there for those times when one of us, any of the three, felt the need for space. We thought it was quite sophisticated to arrange it that way. I was going to use it as a studio, as it had great light.

"I hope you'll be comfortable. Shall I make up the bed for you, Jan?"

Lindsay shook her head. "We're just going to stay up and talk awhile."

I nodded. Apparently I was being sent to my room. Except it was our room, and she wasn't coming.

Slowly, reluctantly, I got up and went off to bed. Alone.

I undressed and got into bed. I tried reading. For awhile, I could hear laughter now and then, but it was clear they were trying to be quiet. I must have drifted off, because I woke with my book on my chest. I didn't hear them talking. Silently, I crept from our bed and into the living room. The lights were off, and Jan and Lindsay were not there.

I swear, I wasn't trying to eavesdrop. I wasn't. But I heard them.

They were speaking very softly. I moved closer and pressed my ear to the wall. It was a horrible thing to do, but I did it. I had trouble making them out and grew very still. They were in the middle of a conversation.

"Does she ever wear one for you?

"No." Lindsay's voice was soft, noncommittal.

I strained for sounds and noises through the wall.

"Why not?"

"Well, Tom is around most of the time." I wondered what I wouldn't wear and what Tom had to do with it. I would do almost anything she asked. She knew that, didn't she?

"I can't believe you don't. You used to love it so. And do you actually like that? Doing it with a man?"

"Sometimes." Lindsay's voice seemed ashamed. "I do her, mostly." I thought about that. It was true. At first, she and Tom had fucked passionately, but for the last couple of months, it had been less frequent. I hadn't been consciously aware until just then because he and I seemed to do it so much, as Lindsay and I kissed and licked. All through April and then May, it had been that way.

"Sometimes?" Jan's voice was superior and haughty. It was like she did not approve of Lindsay having sex with a man. What right did she have to approve of anything? She had dumped Lindsay. She had broken her heart. "Sometimes Lindsay likes dick," Jan hissed like an indictment. It sounded so chilling. There was a pause. I knew they were kissing. "I'd wear it if I were you; do that skinny ass of hers."

"Can we not talk about her?" Again, Lindsay's rocky voice was soft.

"Why not?"

Well, how about the fact that they were in my own home, in the bedI should be sharing with Lindsay, and they were talking loudly enough for me to hear?

"The guy is away most of the summer. You have her to yourself. Hell, she looks like she has the will of a noodle. You could do anything with her."

I wasn't even bothering to stop my crying by then. I am a crying person. That was who I was in that moment.

Lindsay laughed softly. "I could. She's kind of a slut too. Do you have any idea how many guys she has fucked?" God, was Lindsay actually going to tell her how many men I had done? I let my moth gape open and screamed silently. She thought I was a slut.

"She's a L.U.G."

"B.U.G.," Lindsay said.

I was a what?

"Whatever. A year out of school and she'll be swinging that skinny ass exclusively at men again. And she'll get plenty. They like that sort," Jan said.

High opinion she had of my ass, apparently.

Supposedly, a quarter of the women in a survey in Utah who initially identified themselves as lesbian or bisexual no longer identified themselves in that way five years later. But the study went on to say they were still attracted to women, they just didn't use those terms. What the hell did Jan know? About me? About anything? I am not a sort.

God, and then they started to make love. They tried to be quiet about it. I could tell, but I knew Lindsay too well. Or maybe I didn't know her at all.

The bed creaked, and I heard Lindsay making noises like she does when Tom fucks her. She makes different sounds with different kinds of sensation. When I lick her, she kind of coos. When I finger her, she yips. But when she fucks, she grunts. She was grunting.

"Ah, my little cunt likes Jan's fat cock, doesn't she? Better than that man's?"

Lindsay whimpered. "Your little cunt loves your cock. Better than any man's."

I was confused. Jan had a cock? And had my darling love just said she liked it better than Tom's? Better than any man's? I had heard it plainly, but it made no sense.

And then it did, suddenly and horribly. Jan was wearing one. I had seen that once, at Jeni's party. That Sarah girl had strapped it on and fucked Jeni with it. Then she had done me with it. It came back vividly in a flash. I hadn't really thought about it since that night, as it wasn't the most memorable thing. I had played with vibrators and dildos of course, but with my two wonderful lovers, there had not been much need to continue with them. Lindsay and I had only used them a very few times and then only with one or the other of us holding it.

Not wearing it.

I heard Jan asking again, in my head, "Does she ever wear one for you?

Did I ever strap on a dildo and thrust it into my darling's pussy? I hadn't known she wanted me to. I hadn't known she liked to be called a little cunt. I knew nothing.

I didn't need to sit by the wall any longer. I could hear plainly enough.

Jan was making a kind of growling sound as they made love. Lindsay was coming.

The bed rocked with the fury of their passion. I could make out the sounds of both women. Lindsay was never as loud when she came as I was, but there were certain sounds that I had come to know that she made. And the other one, that Jan, she filled the air with her own guttural keening as she fucked the woman I loved.

I lay there, curled up into a ball, and cried. If Lindsay could fuck another woman right there in our own house, Tom must surely be taking all those topless Boston girls into his sleeping bag too. I felt so horrible. I crawled back to bed and pretended to sleep. Eventually Lindsay joined me. She reeked of sex.

In the morning, we all pretended it hadn't happened. I served them breakfast like the good little waitress I was. After they left for their stupid camp, I showered and dressed and went to Jeni's. I need to talk to someone who would understand. Another woman opened the door. Jeni was at her parents' home for several days.

I walked around for hours. Finally, I went to the sex shop next to the video store and bought one. The salesclerk was cute and coy and helpful and even let me try on several to find just the right one. I mean, it wasn't as if buying a strap-on dildo can be done without the clerk knowing what you are up to. It took all the money I had made in tips the night before.

I thought about how one night I had made love with Lindsay in front of her roommate and another woman in her dorm room. How they had been practically undressed when I arrived. How Lindsay had been so flushed. How there had been a vibrator in her bed. How she'd been wet. I knew suddenly and horribly that she had been fucking her roommate and her lover when I had barged in.

Back at home, I striped of all my clothes and put the thing on. It felt odd and alien. I posed before the mirror and run my fingers up and down the phallus hanging from the harness that girded my loins.

Lesbian Until Graduation. L.U.G. That is what she thought I was. I'd looked it up.

I loved Lindsay. I knew I did. With all of my heart. Or was it only half of my heart, because I loved Tom too. I must be some kind of freak, thinking I could love that way.

Knowing she would be home soon, I padded around our love nest naked except for the thing strapped to me, anxious and waiting. I would do that for her if that is what she wanted. I would do anything for her.

That was how she found me when she returned for dinner. She was calling to me as she closed the door, telling me she had to eat then return to the camp to watch films.

I was sprawled on the couch, legs wide, inviting, beckoning, the stupid thing sticking up from between them.

Words caught in her throat. She looked at my brazen, slutty, pathetic display and her eyes turned cold. "You heard?"

"Come on, baby," I cooed, but my voice was as hard as hers. "Don't you want to use it with me?"

"I can't believe you eavesdropped on us."

I sprang to my feat. "You can't believe I eavesdropped? Youfucked her!"

She turned her back on me and started for the kitchen. I followed, the thing bobbing along in front of me like a divining rod. "You fucked her," I repeated, making her turn.

Her answer was short, simple, unarguable. "I love her."

"No!" I stamped. "You love me. Me and Tom."

Her face turned iron. "I could never love Tom."

She couldn't. She didn't. Why? Because.

"I love you," I murmured. It sounded weak and inadequate even to me. I said it again anyway. "I love you."

"Kelly, why don't you put something on and we'll talk."

I didn't want to put something on and talk. I wanted to do her with the thing, like she wanted from a lover. I wanted to call her "little cunt." I pressed myself to her, knowing I could change her mind by loving her the way she wanted. She pushed me away.

"No, Kelly, stop it!" Her gravely voice was uncompromising. "I love Jan. I never stopped loving her, even when she went away. And she is back now and she told me last night that she never stopped loving me either. She wants me to be with her."

I tried to touch her again, but she was stiff and hard under my touch.

"I was going to tell you," she started. "After last night, I was going to tell you."

"That you don't love me?"

"That I am moving out."

"Why?" Why didn't she love me? I loved her.

Lindsay moved away, across the kitchen. "Would you please put something on?"

"No."

"You look ridiculous." I was cut. The pain went deep when she said that.

I stood there, tall, slender, gorgeous, with a great mass of calico hair cascading down my naked back, my nipples standing up so stiffly from the firm swell of my breasts, waist and tummy taut and bared magnificently, my hips and thighs wound over with the black straps of the harness and the thing protruding obscenely our from atop my cunt, as long, shapely legs flowed down below forever. I was beautiful. I was a lesbian dream. I was ridiculous.

Brushing past me, she went into the bedroom and began stripping her clothes from the closet and throwing them into one of her gear totes. Drawers from the bureau were drawn out and emptied by turning them upside down.

"I'm not going to stand here and argue with you," she said firmly. "I'll come back for the rest of my stuff when you are calmer."

"I'm calm," I lied.

Lindsay dropped heavily onto the bed, not looking at me because I looked ridiculous.

"Would you leave Tom for me?"

I had no idea how to answer that. I loved Tom. I loved Lindsay. She couldn't ask me to choose, could she? Ah. But she wasn't asking me to. She was leaving me for Jan the troll. I didn't answer I said nothing because I was afraid..