Something Public Ch. 2

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Audrey & Donna continue their adventure in the cab.
1.7k words
4.35
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Part 2 of the 2 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 05/21/2002
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It is said that a scent can take you back. That smell is the sense most directly connected to memory. Donna would have told you in that moment, that moment of reconnecting with her own recent past in the back seat of a cab, a cab in New York City, a cab on the way to Lincoln Center where she and her Audrey would soon be listening to Beethoven, that it is not only the most directly connected, but the most powerfully evocative. What she was experiencing was not simply a memory; it was an epiphany. Audrey had lifted her fingers from her own sweet sex, to touch Donna on the lips and the scent that invaded Donna's consciousness, the experience it evoked would have made her knees buckle had she been standing. Fortunately, she was sitting; sitting with Audrey nestled against her. Sitting. Thank god. And in that instant she knew, maybe for the first time in her life, what it meant to be utterly content.

The first time she smelled Audrey that way had been over a year ago. They had met in the modern way. Audrey was a college student not yet allowed to drink legally. Donna was a married woman in her early thirties. She loved her husband, fully, completely. But she could not resist the strange forbidden pleasure of the chat rooms. The chance to pretend. To be what she would be in real life if she'd been born with just a tiny bit more courage. Audrey had no lack of courage; what she lacked was opportunity, and the chatrooms provided plenty of that. The very first time they connected, they'd gone off in private, left a room full of lesbians, bi-curious homemakers, male pretenders, and god knows what else; spoke; eventually spoke directly about their mutual need; eventually acted on that need by masturbating together and describing to each other what they were doing. Even that first time it was beyond good. It was wonderful. They continued to meet that way, learning more and more about each other. Donna gradually revealed her desire to be with a woman, not in a chatroom, but in a real bedroom. Audrey revealed her strong need to display herself publicly. Together, they pretended to do these things. And more.

When Audrey graduated, after three years of time and a distance that grew somehow smaller with each electronic meeting, each afternoon of masturbating together, each magically warm encounter, she arranged to meet Donna somewhere far from both of their current homes. They agreed to meet in New York.

Donna had a friend who kept a flat in a seedy Bohemian residential hotel in Chelsea. The friend was away on business. The flat was available. Donna got there first, freshening the rooms with flowers, filling the kitchen with the wonderful smells of gourmet cooking. And as she prepared the appetizer, carefully slicing raw fish, placing it on seaweed-wrapped rice, dressing it with green sprigs flown to the city and brought to the Japanese market that very morning, her hands trembled. When was the last time she'd felt like this? Shaky, light-headed, so full of anticipation that time both flew and crawled? There was not enough time to get everything ready; yet, there was too much time, time moving so terribly slowly, time that had to pass before Audrey would arrive. And when Audrey finally did arrive, ringing the buzzer five stories below, Donna's voice cracked as she stammered into the intercom, "Audrey, is that you?"

"Sure is! Can I come up?" Audrey sounded quite comfortable with the adventure. Perhaps it was simply the naive innocence and confidence of youth. But a small stumble, something only the most perceptive observer might have noticed belied the strong voice, the clear voice, the young voice that had spoken into the intercom. Audrey, too, had a heart (and legs) that trembled. She rode the elevator, an old, creaky thing with an iron gate that rattled, and felt that she was either about to ascend to heaven, or die in the depths of hell from disappointment, so great were her expectations.

Neither of them should have feared failure. Neither of them could have dreamed bigger than the reality that would eventually unfold. All the false hopes and dreams that die in the final encounter, all of the lies and deceptions that find their way into the chatrooms (and the relationships that sometimes result from such encounters) had found their way there from the keyboards of others entirely unlike them. Every word they had "spoken." Every lust they had revealed. Every orgasm that rolled through their bodies, leaving them shaking and grinning had been real. And true. How could it change, how could it not be even better when fingers no longer tapped messages on hard, cold, plastic keys; when fingers finally tapped, touched, teased the warm soft flesh of another, another they already knew almost as well as they knew themselves?

When their eyes met in the doorway, the truth of all that had gone before was confirmed. Donna took Audrey in her arms. Held her tight, and with tears in her eyes silently kissed her warm, sweet mouth. Letting go of the handle of her luggage, Audrey reached for Donna, held on to her, felt her warmth, the give of her very real flesh. Without a word, fulfilling a promise they'd made, a moment they'd carefully planned, Donna gathered the fabric of Audrey's skirt in one hand, lifted it, found her pantyless, and slowly masturbated the soft, hairless cunt she had heard described a thousand times. Touched it with the fingers of a hand that had pretended to be there, the hand Audrey had imagined there when her own fingers had lingered there, masturbating in her bed alone or at her desk with the monitor whispering excited words of encouragement. Finally, there was no need to imagine. She came quickly. Her body heaving, her moans soft, like the mews of a kitten. She'd been so ready for that moment.

And after they had embraced a bit longer, Donna brought her fingers to her mouth, to kiss, to touch with her tongue the taste that was Audrey's, and for the first time the scent of Audrey's sex filled her, filled all of her, and she had cried.

The cabby noticed Audrey's tears, but said nothing. He was not at all certain what had just happened. The young one had just done herself in the back seat of his hack, before god and everybody. The older one had simply hung on and watched. Now she was crying Christsake. "Fuck," he thought, "I wouldn't be crying if that was my fucking girlfriend! Jesus. I'd be doing a fucking happy dance!"

"Donna?" Audrey asked, "I'm sorry; did I make you sad?" "No my sweet girl. Happy. So wonderfully happy."

Audrey smiled, and snuggled deeper into Donna's embrace. It was a terribly bad night to be crossing town. "It's always a bad night to be crossing town," Audrey thought. Traffic was crawling. Sometimes, she thought, it would be faster to walk than take a cab to the Westside. But a wise child redeems the time, and Audrey, it seems, is nothing if not a wise child. She rose in Donna's arms. Rose. Rose until her face was inches from her Donna's. Her naked back and sides there for Donna to touch, again. And once there, she softly kissed away Donna's tears of joy. Without a word, she began to kiss more passionately, and Donna responded. Lips opened. Tongues frolicked. Lips pulled on lips, sliding wetly away, separating with a soft pop. Breath mingled; breaths growing quicker, heavier. Hands traveled across well-known flesh. Audrey's hand slid down between her lover's knees. Donna looked into the rearview. The driver was watching, again, dumbstruck. "Why the hell not," she thought. This won't be the first time Audrey's helped me try something new! Public sex! That's her thing, not mine--but it has been hours . . ." her thoughts trailed off. Thoughts seemed to cease altogether. In their place there was sensation. Touch, taste, smell, sound. Audrey's touch on her thighs, hand pressing toward her cunt which was responding. Donna got very wet when she was aroused. She could taste the back of Audrey's neck when she leaned forward to kiss it, the slight salty taste of perspiration on her bare back when she allowed her tongue to travel there. Smell her perfume, the way it mingled with the warmth of her skin radiating the added scent of her body. She could smell Audrey's hair. Feel it tickle her face when she allowed her nose, mouth and cheeks to nuzzle in it. Feel the warm breath that now moved over thighs laid bare as the hand-gathered fabric climbed higher with Audrey's every tug. She could hear Audrey's breathing which was growing faster too, hear her own soft moans that came involuntarily. Hear the sound of lips kissing loudly, wetly, closer and closer to the place, the center of all feeling now exposed by her obscenely wide-spread legs. Finally, she felt fingers sliding in and out of her cunt while Audrey's lips and tongue nibbled at her, tugged, slid, flicked, pressed.

"Oh dear god!" she moaned, before slipping into the feeling fully, before riding the ever building waves that rolled through her, waves that seemed to grow immeasurably when she opened her eyes and saw that the cabby was staring at them, mouth agape, not believing the scene that was taking place in the back seat of his cab.

She came more wildly than usual, with exaggerated movements and moans. She lifted her ass off the seat and threw her cunt up into Audrey's face, lifting them both until they were level with the window. She pulled her dress and bra down, exposing her breasts. She was, she realized, performing, and it made everything so much more intense. Cars that were stuck in traffic alongside the cab were filled with drivers, passengers, who stared, not believing like the cabby. Every eye on her exposed breasts, her writhing body; every gaze struggling to see her cunt, Audrey's tongue, was like a hypodermic of sensation-enhancing drugs injected straight into her veins. And before it was all over her every nerve was screaming with pleasure. And her mouth screamed even louder.

After she came, she shuddered a while. Clutching at Audrey who let her head linger on Donna's naked lap. Smiling, she looked out the window at a gray-haired man who was staring at her. She mouthed a silent, "Hi!" and licked her lips obscenely. After a few minutes, when her heaving chest finally caught up with her need for oxygen, she pulled her bra and dress back over her flushed red chest.

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