Dark clouds line the horizon to the south. The wind has picked up since morning. Driving along the coast highway, Linda watches the palm trees begin to sway with the offshore winds. She looks down at her hands on the wheel. Lifting her right hand, she notices it's shaking. She puts it back on the wheel, too nervous to take her eyes off the road again.
"What are you doing, Linda?" She glances in the mirror, looking for answers in her sunglasses. The clock on the dash reads three-seventeen. Her store wouldn't close for another four hours, but she couldn't wait. She had to leave early. Her assistant needed to learn how to close anyway. She couldn't pass up the opportunity. Perhaps they were there. Just maybe.
Her mind drifts back to this morning in the shop. The two girls - two strangers from across the border, but the one girl… Linda bites her lip thinking of her. The one girl looks incredible in the swimsuit that she had designed. It's one of her favorites from her shop's collection, but she'd never met anyone, not even any of the models at the spring show with the body that the suit fit - never, not until today.
"Deborah," she says softly. She remembers being called into the changing room and witnessing her striking body. Just the memory of her turning around, showing off the suit brings goosebumps to her arms, her nipples echo the taughtness, curling into little knots.
Unconsciously, her right hand drifts off the wheel and onto her thigh, gently smoothing her skirt.
And then she had taken it off - her beautiful breasts, her trimmed pussy and her ass, oh, what a prefect ass. Linda moans as her fingers press her mons through her skirt and panties. Her heart begins to beat rapidly. She pushes her hips forward on the seat and lets her knees drift open.
The girls had taken several outfits back into the changing room, but it had been too long, hadn't it? I wasn't snooping. I knocked twice with no answer and then…then pulled the curtain aside. They were making love.
Linda pulls her skirt up with her hand, pressing the flesh gently on the inside of her thigh. She reaches her crotch. Like a little furnace, her pussy was hot and wet, very wet. Her fingers begin tiny little circles.
In Linda's mind she could see Deborah on her back on the couch with her knees spread and the other girl…what was her name…was licking, licking Deborah's pussy. Not little licks, not flicks of her tongue, she delved deep, eating into her pussy, that beautiful pussy.
Linda's fingers work their way under her panties, pushing aside the crotch. She feels the coolness of the air-conditioner vent blow on her lips. She slowly drags a finger up and down her slit, getting it wetter and wetter. Her breathing grows heavier and her heart beats faster as though it's trying to run away.
"Where is the turnoff?" Linda looks impatiently down the ocean side of the road.
Then slowly, she saw Deborah began to arch her back, pushing her crotch into the other girl's face, moaning as she did. She caressed her breasts with both hands, pausing to pinch and twist her nipples. She raised her head and looked down at what was being done to her pussy and then, she looked up and she saw me, those green eyes holding my gaze for a moment…a brief moment.
Linda moans loudly as she sinks two fingers into her pussy thinking of the morning scene and begins to steadily pump them in and out, fucking herself as the image of the two girls plays in her mind. She looks down, watching her fingers sink inside and withdraw alternately compressing and expanding her labia, slick with her juices. Her hips buck against her hand as the remembers the tongue of one girl licking the slit of another.
In the daydream, the lovely Deborah pinched her eyes shut and clutched at her boobs, slapping her hips up from the couch, the other girl desperately trying to ride out the waves of orgasm that ripped through that beautiful ass.
BEEP! BEEEEP! A horn honks loudly. Linda looks up. Her car has drifted across the line, heading straight for the grill of a truck! She grabs the wheel, spinning it right and slams on the brakes! WHOOSH! The truck rushes by, flying up the highway. Linda's car flies off the highway, sliding, fishtailing through the gravel and sand along the shoulder.
Her car grinds to a stop, a hundred feet off the roadway. Linda looks up from underneath her sunglasses and watches the truck race away behind the cloud of dust she's kicked up. Her heart beats a mile-a-minute. Sweat drips off her brow and runs between her breasts.
Ten feet out the driver's side window is a street sign "Punto de las Sirenas." Linda exhales deeply and blinks hard twice, shaking her head.
Ten minutes later, Linda's car comes to the end of the cul-de-sac where her father's house begins. Parked next to the driveway entrance is a blue Miata with American plates. She stops and stares at it, making sure. Smiling, she pulls into the driveway.
Linda parks and walks through the garden to the front door. She looks around the side of the house at the patio. She takes three steps out into the sand, but sees no one. Their car is here. Where are they?
Inside, she runs upstairs to the room she's been occupying while her father is away on business, tending his vineyards in the south. Entering, she thows her purse on the bed and opens the blinds facing the beach.
"Nothing. Where were…? Wait." She sees some movement in the waves.
She grabs a pair of binoculars in the hall closet and goes back to the window. In the waves, perhaps six hundred meters away, she sees them playing. Someone drops down the face of the shorebreak and stands up on the sandbar after it passes, laughing and smiling - Deborah.
Linda takes a seat on the end of the bed and watches them. Deborah's wearing Linda's suit. She looks amazing. Linda drops one hand from the binoculars and cups her breast, moaning. Shivers run up her back as she squeezes the plump appendage.
"I've got to get down there."
She drops the glasses on the bed and looks around her room. In the closet, she pulls open her suitcase and starts sifting through clothes. She pulls out a white one-piece bathing suit and holds it up to herself in front of the closet mirror. She smiles, then biting her finger, throws it on the bed. She pulls out the top to a bikini she hasn't worn all year. She can't find the bottoms. Determined, she dumps out the suitcase on the bed and sorts through everything.
"There they are." She springs off the bed with both pieces and holds them up. "Oh my God." She'd forgotten the bottoms were a thong cut. Could she wear it?
She puts the suit down, kicks off her heels and tears off her clothes. Eventually, she shimmies out of her panties and catches sight of herself in the mirror. She pauses, looking at herself. She takes a deep breath and throws her shoulders back, admiring her body. Her last boyfriend dumped her last Christmas, saying she was too fat.
She turns around and looks at her ass - no fat around her tummy or waist. "Maybe my butt's too big." She pulls at her cheeks, trying to get them to sit higher. "Mature," she says, cocking her head to the side. She faces the mirror, putting one leg up on the bed. She'd always liked her legs - long and lean.
"Runner's legs!" Her father had said.
Closing her eyes, she thinks back to Deborah on the beach and her mind drifts back to the events of the morning. She wonders whether Deborah would find her attractive. She opens her eyes and looks in the mirror. She examines the tan lines around her boobs, putting her hands over them, covering the nipples. She cups them and holds them up like a bra would. Then, briefly, she imagines another soft pair of hands on her breasts, rubbing them softly, caressing them and then painted, shiny lips kissing the nipples. She smiles and laughs. "Me with a woman!" If it were to happen, she would have to tell her brother, Aldo.
