RACHELęS BIRTHDAY
by Prima C.

[Disclaimer: I never write same-sex stuff, but the outline for this plot was suggested to me in an e-mail by a reader, so - considering I can never pass up a challenge - hope you enjoy it, whoever you are.]

*** Happy birthday to me, Rachel thought disconsolately.

30 years old today, and what did she have to show for it? A nothing job as an editorial assistant for a specialty trade magazine, no man since Martin split on her six months ago, no kids (actually not such a bad thing given the absence of a man), and still living by herself in the same rented one bedroom apartment sheęd had for the past three years. Sure, frequent trips to the gym kept her body toned and athletic, but of course that would all start going south soon enough. Feeling lonely and unloved, sheęd decided to try and cheer herself by buying herself something at a reasonably expensive dress boutique, but it was hard deciding on something to buy when her heart really wasnęt into it anyway. And then to be told by an officious young saleswoman a good 10 years her junior that she was "not allowed" to bring more than four items into the fitting room, that beat all.

Rachel sat on the padded chair in the corner of the stall, looking critically at the dresses she had brought in with her. From where she sat, the dresses looked sad, limp, dangling off their hangers. It wasnęt even worth getting up the energy to try them on.

God, she was depressed.

A sudden rustle, followed by a thud, caught her attention. So she wasnęt alone in the dressing room, as she had first thought. As she listened, the rustling and shuffling grew louder, more agitated. Then another thud, and a grunt of pain or frustration. Then, "Damn! Oh, help. Please, is someone out there?" Wearily, Rachel peeled herself off the chair and went off to investigate.

Stumbling around the other stall was a young woman of maybe about twenty-four or five, clad only in a pale pink lace bra and panties, her arms and head tangled up in a clingy green knit dress. Rachel caught a glimpse of a green eye and some tendrils of strawberry hair. She knew this young woman, she realized. Linda Something-or-other, recently moved into her building and shared an apartment with her boyfriend. Jason his name was, maybe. Rachel didnęt think much of Jason. She considered him loud and boorish, always criticizing Linda In public and not caring who heard.

"Thank god youęre here," Linda wailed from somewhere inside the folds of green fabric. "This will teach me to think Ięm still a size 4."

"Hold still," Rachel prompted, "I think itęs snagged somewhere." Reaching down, she could feel that the clingy knit had somehow been caught on the front of the young womanęs bra. As she reached down to free it, her knuckles grazed the lace stretched across the girlęs breasts, felt the warmth of her skin through the fine lace. The feel of the redheadęs soft flesh sent an unexpected jolt up her arm and down through her body, causing her to yank more roughly than sheęd intended.

There was a ripping sound, and the front of the bra suddenly opened. Lindaęs breasts tumbled out.

"Damn!" Still tangled in the folds of the green dress, Linda bent over, covering herself. "Now thatęs ripped it. What am I going to do now?"

Rachel stood there awkwardly. The young woman was in such obvious distress that part of her wanted to reach out, to reassure her. She inspected damaged garment hanging loosely from Lindaęs shoulder. "Look, the hook is still attached, just barely. Let me close it back up for you."

Still sobbing, the smaller woman straightened up obligingly. Rachel pulled the bra back across Lindaęs chest and re-fastened the hook.

"Thanks," the young redhead sniffled. "I donęt even know why Ięm bothering. I mean, Jason - you know my boyfriend - and I, we havenęt been getting along all that great lately. I get the feeling he thinks Ięve been letting myself go, and maybe I have. Itęs just that with this new job I got, and moving in - well - itęs not important. Oh god, would you look at this? My armęs still stuck."

"Hold still, or youęll make it worse." As Rachel helped to coax the green dress over Lindaęs head, the smaller woman stumbled against her. "Hey, careful," she said, putting her arm on the other womanęs shoulder as she helped her work the clingy material down her arm. Even tear-streaked and disheveled, Linda was beautiful, with bright green eyes, pale, rosy skin and long, curly strawberry hair. Botticelli hair, Rachel thought absently, recalling an art history class sheęd had in college.

"So anyway, I figured I would make an effort, right?" Linda went on. "Buy a new dress, something sexy, cook him a nice dinner, really make an effort. And of course the first dress I try on turns into this nightmare. God, nothing ever goes right for me!"

"Shhhh." Rachel wiped away a tear from Lindaęs face. "Look, it canęt be as bad as that. Jasonęs a jerk if he canęt appreciate what he has. Frankly, Ięd always thought you could do better." The young woman looked so pitiful, so vulnerable, that Rachel couldnęt resist giving her a hug right there.

"Thanks," Linda sniffled into her shoulder. "I needed to hear that." Rachel let the young womanęs body rest against hers for a moment, enjoying the feeling of her soft skin in her arms. As she did, she let her hand again brush over the side of Lindaęs lace-covered breast, and this time she let it remain there a bit longer, perhaps a split second more than might have been appropriate. The electric, quivering feeling returned. Confused sensations swirled around her brain. The idea that she was actually touching another womanęs breast was heady, intoxicating.

Time seemed to stop as Lindaęs eyes met hers. Holding the young womanęs petite but voluptuous body in her hands, Rachel was acutely conscious of the heat of Lindaęs skin, of the scent of her perfume. What was going on? Sheęd never thought herself as the type who harbored any closet lesbian tendencies. Yet here she was - in the proximity of this rosy-pink and ultra-feminine woman - unexpectedly and decidedly turned on.

As if on their own, Rachelęs fingers started to move in a gentle caress as her thumb found Lindaęs nipple, feeling the rosy nub harden at her touch. At the same time her other hand was moving too, tracing the curves on the younger womanęs body as it slid down from shoulder to hip. Before she knew what was happening, she had pulled Lindaęs body tight against hers, her tongue opening Lindaęs lips, exploring the inside of Lindaęs rosy mouth.

A soft rustle from somewhere outside the stall caused Rachel to glance up. The bossy young saleswoman had wandered into the dressing room and stopped, her mouth an astonished O. Too late Rachel realized that sheęd left the curtain partially open and in the gap the two of them were clearly visible to their uninvited spectator.

"Donęt look now, but I think we have an audience," she whispered as she flicked her tongue in Lindaęs ear.

Linda pulled back, suddenly self-conscious. Her eyes were unfocused and she swayed on her feet. Rachel could see that a small patch of moisture had appeared across the crotch of her panties.

Surprised at her newfound recklessness, she took Lindaęs hands and placed them on her own denim-clad hips. "Letęs give her something to really write home about," she said with a suggestive smile.

Tentatively, gingerly, Linda moved her hand up to Rachelęs waist and pulled her t-shirt free of her jeans. Rachel leaned forward to take Lindaęs earlobe in her mouth as Lindaęs hands reached under the t-shirt, dipping inside the waistband of her jeans to trace the top of her cotton panties. Rachel could feel Lindaęs breath hot on her neck, and her skin tingled under the other womanęs fingers.

Rachel turned Linda toward the mirror. The smaller woman regarded herself critically and rolled her eyes. "Oh god, donęt make me look."

"Why not?" Rachel murmured, her tongue continuing to play with Lindaęs earlobe.

"But - Ięm fat!"

"No youęre not. Youęre beautiful," said Rachel, cupping the underside of Lindaęs breast. The younger woman squirmed and giggled nervously. "You donęt believe me? Ięll show you."

Taking care not to tear the hook any further, Rachel unclasped the front of the lace bra again. Lindaęs breasts were round and full, with small rosy nipples. She took one in each of her hands as if weighing them, pushing them together, kneading the soft flesh. Linda sighed and leaned back against Rachelęs body, and Rachel winced as the girlęs shoulder blades made contact with her own confined and aching breasts.

Rachel started licking the side of Lindaęs neck. Linda arched her head back, her mouth opening in a silent moan. It was a truly arresting sight, the two of them. The combination of sights, smells, and touches had her body on fire. In the background, the salesgirl was watching, transfixed. She had unconsciously started fondling her own breasts in sync with Rachelęs actions.

Still pretending not to notice their audience, Rachel continued to play Lindaęs body as if it were an extension of her own, her hands travelling over contours so similar to hers yet wholly unfamiliar. Rachel slipped a hand inside the smaller womanęs panties. The skin beneath was soft and hairless. A small sound came out of Lindaęs parted lips.

Rachelęs knuckles massaged the skin around Lindaęs clit. She played around the hard nub for a while, letting Lindaęs responses guide her movements. Then her finger found the young redheadęs moist opening and slipped inside. A shudder ran up Lindaęs body. In the mirror, Rachel could still see her hand moving through the sheer pink lace as she continued to stimulate Linda. She pushed her groin hard against the redheadęs wonderfully rounded buttocks and slid a second finger into Lindaęs slippery wetness. For the moment, nothing existed outside of the dressing room of this boutique.

For a second Rachel dared to lift her eyes up and steal another look at their unsuspecting audience. The salesgirl was standing with one hand inside her blouse, the other hand balled in a fist held tightly against her crotch. Even from a distance Rachel could see the girlęs face was flushed and moist.

All at once a violent jolt ran up Lindaęs body as the young woman shuddered to orgasm. Then her knees buckled and she sank to the floor of the stall. "Oh, god," she gasped. "That was amazing." She swiveled around on her hips and wrapped her arms around Rachelęs legs. "Thank you," she whispered, pressing her cheek against Rachelęs groin. Rachelęs crotch was burning hot inside the tight denim. All at once she heard the snap as the front of her jeans opened, felt the material loosen around her hips. Then Linda began to push Rachelęs jeans down her legs. Rachelęs cotton panties followed, and the cool air of the dressing room hit her exposed sex like a slap.

Startled, Rachel stumbled backwards, her ankles tangled up in the jeans, and landed butt-first on the cushion of the padded chair. She felt exploring fingers opening her thighs, caressing the sensitive skin on the insides. Then the fingers were followed by lips, trailing soft kisses. She pulled one foot out of the leg of her jeans and panties and spread her legs wider. Electric sensations rocked up and down her body. Then there was only Lindaęs fingers opening her labia, Lindaęs breath against her exposed clit, Lindaęs tongue tasting her rapidly flowing juices.

Rachel pushed her hips further out as Linda lapped at her slit. Her strong thighs flexed around the younger womanęs shoulders as her arms gripped the sides of the chair. Looking up at the mirror, she could see her lean athletic body splayed out on the padded seat, the back of Lindaęs head in between her legs. By now the poor salesgirl had given up all attempt at composure and was leaning against the wall, stroking herself furiously.

Just then, Lindaęs tongue curled up and landed squarely on Rachelęs G-spot. Rachel exploded.

Her hips bucked up spastically as the climax jolted up her spine. Lindaęs tongue flicked in and out with greater confidence, drawing out the orgasm. Rachel ground her hips against the girlęs mouth and bit down on the back of her hand to stifle the animal cry welling up in her throat. Finally, shuddering, she slumped back down in the chair, her body flushed and quivering. She pulled Lindaęs head up on her body, let it rest on her belly as she stroked the girlęs soft red hair. Happy birthday to me, she thought with a smile.

Off in the corner, the salesgirl came with a barely audible squeak and sagged against the wall.

***

Becky had seen some odd goings-on before, but never this.

Just think, before today the worst sheęd ever had to deal with - maybe - was young girls trying to shoplift the merchandise. Becky took her job very seriously. Sure, she was only a salesgirl right now, but she knew she had a shot at becoming an assistant manager in time, if she played by the rules. As such, she had been fully prepared to march in and put an end to what those two were doing in the dressing room, but something - some perverse, forbidden part of her psyche - stopped her from doing so. Then, before she knew what was happening, here she was, slumped up against the wall with her skirt hiked up over her hips, still clutching herself through her sodden panties.

As the last waves of orgasm shuddered to a close, she opened her eyes. The two women in the stall were standing side by side, fully dressed, regarding her appreciatively.

Realization crept into her mind: these two had witnessed her touching herself, had watched her come. Embarrassment flooded her face.

"Donęt worry about it, dear," said the redhead coolly, handing Becky a green dress on a hanger. "I donęt suppose you could find this in a size 6?"

As Becky scurried off to the rack, face burning, she could hear the soft laughter behind her.

© PrimaC 2001.

Prima C is the pseudonym of a graduate student in New Jersey. Her other erotica works have appeared in Dare, Girlphoria, and Venusorvixen. She can be reached at prima_c_2000@yahoo.com.