In the Warm & Cozy, Part 1

by PenelopePinn

This is a long story about innocence and discovery and temptation.

Chapter 1: Cookies & Spice

The girl in the green cardigan with the rolling cart makes her way down the main street in the village of Durbin. This is the Durbin of the out-of-the-way, of where Starbucks is unlikely to penetrate, a place pleasantly apart. Down the street she rolls, looking this way and that for where hope rests, a gathering expectation in the form of the Bella Rosa Bakery, a name that somehow struck her fancy. On the East side of the square her friend told her, just after she was forced to gently evict her, no longer having room for what is almost a vagrant girl, down now to her last few twenties. The girl, a baker of beautiful cookies, luxurious in their swirls and colors and in the overall heavenliness of their taste, has a talent that can sustain her, if only she can find a place to bake and hungry people to buy her cookies. In the cart, a book of glossy pictures show the work of her thin nibble fingers--the shiny-eyed wonder of her youth and imagination: Will anyone believe these pictures--what this slender, red-haired woman--a girl really--all curls and freckles, radiant with hope and unquenchable enthusiasm, can do?

The little sign, a wood carving of a fat loaf of bread over which the words Bella Rosa curve, is hard to see nestled in the shade of a big red maple tree growing by the curb. She first sees the three or four small tables tucked in the niche of a storefront where two windows of gleaming glass angle inward to frame a green door in their center. Looking up, there is the sign, here is the bakery, dappled in shade, on this sunny auspicious morning in the first days of autumn: A big breathe, a straightening of strong, slender shoulders, and in she goes.

"Hello!" she is greeted by a young woman and a skinny teenage girl, both grinning, standing side by side, looking at her expectantly. They saw her on their street, looking this way and that, rolling her cart, intent. Nellie thought vaguely of someone familiar; her niece Madeleine, of a long lost friend, although she would never have used those words for such a whimsical notion so quickly forgotten, just a fleeting wisp of something, a whisper in the wind.

"Hi!" the girl says, all smiles.

The teen runs over to her. "What a neat cart! The wheels are so cool!"

"I painted them myself, this is my little really 'green' car."

"What's in the cart?" the teen asks. By now the woman has joined them so that the three of them are standing together, comfortably, if not unaccountably, chatting like new found friends. (How do strangers instantly know, just so, that there is to their meeting a destiny true, a place from which in hazy profile, by a tide true, where selves float back then forward into this real life, like these three girls chatting amicably, warmed by sun beaming through the shiny window of the Bella Rosa Bakery?)

"Come sit down!" The woman says, taking the girl's hand. "I'm Nellie--this is my niece, Snooky" and grins, "her real name is Madeleine."

"I was named after the cat I used to chase in the back by the storeroom." Snooky says and takes her other hand, leading her to a table by the window, where they sit.

The teen peaks in the cart. Nellie laughs "Nosey!"

"My name is Janie, Janie Irving." The girl says and in playful formality shakes the teen's hand. "Want to see my cookies?'

"Cookies?" Nellie says, interested, as always, in all things baked. "I tried to make cookies--not too well, I'm afraid. They look so easy, but my brother, heartless bastard" she points her head to the back of the bakery, "never approved."

"Oh," says Janie, her shoulders unconsciously drooping, "too bad."

"I'm just not such a good cook--he isn't really heartless--or a bastard," she giggles.

Snooky has already dipped into the cart and is holding a red photo album, on whose cover, in a flourish of hand painted script curves "Cookies to Die For."

"Snooky..." Nellie says

"Let me show you!" Janie says. She takes the book from Snooky and opens it onto the table. The three of them gather around it, heads close. On the first page, row after decorated row of perfect cookies present themselves. On the next few pages, closeups show the beautiful detail of delicious looking cookies: corkscrews, swirls, towers, buttons, and bows, all of an original, if not, whimsical design. They are bathed in bright colors, a rainbow of cookies of all shapes and sizes, little works of art.

"I love cookies," Nellie says, wistfully, "If only I could make them better..."

"Nice designs!" a baritone voice says from over Nellie's shoulder. "Did you make those?"

"Yes!" Janie says, "It's my specialty!"

"You bake cookies?" Snooky says, her eyes flitting from Nellie to the baritone.

"Yep--all these, for a few years now." Janie says.

"Where do you work?" asks Nellie.

"I'd like to work here." Janie says simply.

"Oh, good!" says Snooky, wrapping Janie in an unabashed hug.

"Hmm" says the baritone as Nellie adds an encouraging smile, turning her head to the man behind her who now takes a seat at the table opposite them, his eyes moving between the pictures and the girl. Janie turns the book in his direction.

"So you bake," he says, as she narrates what the cookies are made of, how they are made, and what some of their unique ingredients are, including this secret ingredient and that, her phrasing very clearly a baker's shorthand that causes the man to smile.

"I'm Roscoe," he says, "and this" his eyes rest playfully on his sister, Nellie, and Snooky, his daughter, whom he introduces, ending with a wave that captures the room "and this is the family bakery."

"May I bake my cookies here?" Janie asks, holding her breathe.

Snooky takes her hand and squeezes it, big eyes looking up at her father. And Nellie puts a possessive arm around Janie's shoulder, "Cookies would go well with the coffee...'

Roscoe, liking the girl's spunkiness and is well aware of just how insistent his daughter and sister can be when they dig in, decides on compromise, "We can't eat a picture! Bake us some samples...but no promises."

"Right now?" asks Janie, excitedly, her mind already whirling through her favorite recipes.

"Why not, the bakings done for today and the ovens are still warm. Maybe Sis can show you were everything is." Roscoe says.

"I'd love too!" Nellie says squeezing Janie's shoulder.

"Me too!" Snooky says and they get up, almost skipping back to the ovens, leaving Roscoe to look at the pictures, shaking his head, wondering what he got himself into.

The girls spend half the day baking and laughing, giggles bounce off the walls, past the hot ovens, to careen around the long room painted in mauve, with highlights of purple and burgundy--a woman's touch that complements their chattering voices.

Nellie is telling Janie how they want to put in a classy expresso machine up front to bring in the morning coffee crowd and to add business throughout the day, hence the idea of cookies to nibble on. Janie is tasting one of the demi loaves of bread and telling Nellie how good it is, describing the crunchy texture of the crust and the mellow doughy smoothness of its center. "Hardly needs butter," she remarks as Roscoe smiles, recognizing a fellow connoisseur of well-baked bread. He is leaning against the counter as the first batch of decorated cookies is presented for inspection. Behind Janie her loyal troops are assembled--won over in a single exuberant session of fun-fun whirlwind baking.

Roscoe looks keenly at the plate of cookies. They are artfully arranged on a large oval platter on which a white paper doily lays. Along the edges are the button cookies in tricolor--American, French, Portuguese, Mexican and Italian colors (make the green brighter Snooky told Janie as they were mixing the food coloring for the Italian cookies). The tricolors frame more elaborate swirls, curlycues, wafers, and exotic ganaches, and madeleines (which Snooky took extra delight in). Taken together they form an appealing mosaic. Roscoe stares at the prodigious effort, impressed, "I hate to take one and ruin the design."

"It'll be OK," Janie says, and brings out another tray where many of the same cookies are arranged in uniform rows for easy picking.

"Ah, good," Roscoe says taking one of the cookies, "a madeleine, I believe, we don't see too many of these," winking at Snooky. He stops then to savor the swirling taste of cinnamon, nutmeg, sugar, and butter combined with--what?--ah, he remembers now, a hint of anise. The cookie melts in his mouth, leaving a fine flavor without a hint of aftertaste. As he stands there savoring the light texture, out comes another tray--how could she have done all these cookies in such a short time? This tray is spectacular: Cookies combined to create the bakery's sign, the words Bella Rosa and the loaf of bread in remarkable detail, the cookies designed expressly for the sign.

"Wow," Roscoe says, "that was quick! The cookies are great!" and takes another one from the serving tray. "It's hard to put this together in just a few hours. Especially something as professional as this."

Janie nods shyly, the 'professional' bringing a big smile to her face and the faces of her helpers, Nellie and Snooky, who are now at her flanks clearly expecting good news.

"OK, then" Roscoe says, "lets talk pricing and profit sharing."

"Half!" Nellie says, "The girl's got to live."

"Half it is, then, but only of the profit. The cost of goods comes out first."

Janie nods her head, "You could have had more..."

"Naw" says Roscoe, "we want you to have a reason to bake good cookies day in and day out. After a while that could be a struggle if you're not making any money."

"That's great," Janie says, "I can probably afford to pay my able assistant, if she's not too busy with her homework" and nudges Snooky.

"Think of Snooky as your apprentice." Roscoe laughs, "She gets paid by the bakery to learn."

"Me, too!" Nellie says, "Free labor: Your overhead is just hard work and imagination. And maybe a little hourly wage until her cookies catch on...?"

"Fair enough," Roscoe says, "although it cuts into your profit Janie."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" Janie says her eyes misty, as Nellie and Snooky hug her and Roscoe offers his hand to seal their agreement.

'Let's try a few samples on our unsuspecting customers," Nellie says and the girls begin arranging the smaller cookers on a doily clad plate to sit on top of the glass display.

"Come on," Snooky says after they are done, "let me show you your room."

Roscoe looks at Nellie, his eyebrow raised, "I'm sharing my apartment upstairs until she gets settled." Nellie says with a big smile.

"Sharing, huh?" and Roscoe winks at Nellie as the girls tromp up the steps like a herd of wildebeests. Behind the counter in the corner by the cash register, sits Janie's little cart, colored wheels and all, on top of what looks to be plastic bags of clothes, her red cookie book. Roscoe shakes his head, wondering again about this whirlwind of a girl that has just breezily blown through his bakery like a warm wind on a cold day...causing giggles and, he senses, goodwill all around.

Chapter 2: Rooming With Friends

Upstairs, the girls stand together in the middle of Nellie's messy attic apartment, looking at the sloped ceilings, the little nooks within which dormer windows present a blue sky, the shiny wooden floors--what you can see of them for all the clothes cluttered about--that angle toward a small Pullman kitchen next to which is an even smaller bath with a shower.

"It's cozy," Nellie says, "but there's plenty of room for two. I once had six girl friends staying her for a week. That was fun."

Snooky points to the extra bed in the corner and pushes an end table from one of the niches next to the bed. "Walla!" she says with a flourish. "Now all we need is a privacy screen and you'll have your own bedroom. You might need it since your room mate has a girl friend, huh, Auntie!"

"Shh!" Nellie says blushing, "It's true, but we won't disturb you. Irma won't bother you at all--Snooky is just trying to shock you."

"It's true," Snooky says, holding Janie's hand, "Irmy is a real pet, you'll like her!"

The girls spend the next few hours cleaning the apartment and settling Janie in.

"You haven't told me what the rent is Nellie," Janie says. The three of them are sprawled out on a big fluffy round rug in the center of the attic. Janie is on one elbow looking seriously at Nellie.

"Oh, I don't know..." big pause eyes roaming the room, "not much more than $1000 or so" and then giggles when Janie frowns, only to be interrupted when Snooky tickles Janie's feet and Nellie pokes Janie in the ribs.

"Let's not have any rent for now. After all, you're teaching my niece to bake beautiful cookies. Imagine what a culinary cooking school would charge for that privilege!"

"You're sure?" Janie says, "We don't even know if the cookies will sell..."

"Then we'll give them away until the customers are hooked. That's what Roscoe did with those demi loaves you liked. He made them even smaller and kept handing them to folks. It took maybe two weeks before he had a loyal following of freeloaders and then another few weeks before they began paying for them."

"I don't want to be a freeloader..." Janie frowns defensively, worried about all this generosity and, shyly, about all the easy acceptance, feeling like she is in a dream.

"Not you, sweetie." Nellie hugs her, "Just look at all the work you put in to making those cookies. It'll take a few months before you're profitable. We're just protecting our investment in our secret cookie master."

Roscoe calls up for Snooky who gives Nellie and Janie a friendly kiss before she runs down the stairs, yelling over shoulder, "See you after school!"

When Janie finally takes a long overdue nap, Nellie goes downstairs to the little kitchen in the back to make them a dinner of salmon patties and salad. (She could have cooked up stairs, but decides the girl needs her rest so she is willing to put up with Roscoe's frown from the fishy smell. I put the exhaust fan on, Ros!) She puts the food on a tray and adds more of the little loaves and brings them upstairs. She sets the table adding wine glasses. Then she looks to the nook where the girl still slumbers, her face peaceful. Nellie smiles feeling enormously protective as she wonders wickedly what her girlfriend Irma will say.

Before she fell asleep, excited by her new job, Janie thought of cookies and of people smiling, customers eager for her yummy cookies. She dreamed of Nellie and Snooky, the baritone voice of Roscoe, and that odd wink he gave his sister. Now just before Janie opens her eyes, half asleep in and out of dreamland, the image of smiling Nellie, Nellie of the warm hug, her blond hair flowing, shimmering down a yellow silk nightie, its front open at the throat, admitting the swell of rosy breasts, inviting... Janie wakes up then and looks around amazed to be here in a strange new room, tucked under a blanket. With a luxurious stretch, she smells dinner and sees the nicely set table, presented to her by the blond angel still fresh from her dreams.

"Hi," Janie says from her corner, untangling her legs, "something smells good."

"I made us a little dinner."

"Hmm, that's nice..."

"Wine, too, just a light red."

"You're spoiling me."

"Just welcoming you."

"How long have you lived here?"

"About six months now--after I moved out of Irma's."

"You moved out?"

"We had a fight.--I love Irm dearly, but living with her is trying. She's even more sloppy than I am and she insists on bringing stray girls home."

"She does, but I thought..."

"Yes," Nellie says, "we're in love but sometimes Irmy can't help herself, she's just not the faithful kind."

"You're OK with it?"

"Sure, once you understand how needy she is, you forgive her faults. Fidelity isn't all its made out to be," Nellie pauses to pour the wine. "Irma is loyal--in her own way. She keeps trying. It's about clinging and ego and what it means, in the heart, to be loyal. You don't expect an innocent baby to run before it can walk..."

"Irma comes here a lot?"

"Yes, but not so much that it should bother you--I hope."

"I'm just happy to have a place to get on my feet--or off them--that bed is nice and comfortable. At my friends house, I slept on the floor--the dog and I!" Janie laughs, "I miss the dog, but not the floor."

"And I'm happy to have the company. I'm thinking that Irmy will be a little jealous--probably be good for her."

"How long have you been together?"

"About three years now," Nellie says, gently twisting her hair, softly smiling. Janie thinks she looks almost like a mother thinking of a small, naughty child, a little miss easily forgiven.

"How did you meet?" Janie asks shyly.--She does indeed want to know these tantalizing, exotic details but remembering her strange dream she is also afraid of being drawn into this new, possibly tempting world of women who love women.

A little more wine is poured, the meal nearly done, as Nellie laughs and begins her tale of seduction. She picks up Janie's hand and strokes it gently, "A few years ago, I would never even dream of picking up another woman's hand and stroking it--even as a friend--like I'm doing now." Janie blushes but does not move her hand, instead she sits absorbed, a little worried at how willingly she enjoys being touched and hugged or even kissed in that friendly way Nellie has. "Then along came Irma, thundering into my life on her motorcycle and her wild hair and her infectious hugs... I guess those hugs have rubbed off a little." Nellie pauses to look directly a Janie. "Sorry if I'm too demonstrative..."

"It's OK," Janie can't help but smile, beguiled by the thoughtfulness in Nellie's worried frown. "It's been along time since someone's hugged me..."

"Not too long I hope," Nellie says, "I get lots of hugs from my brothers and my family, but until Irma, I didn't get many of those hugs. Irma's hugs are different: friendly or edgy, you won't quite know until you step back to breathe. Irma's a big hugger--you'll find out soon enough."

"Anyway," Nellie continues, "I went to this dance with a guy that turned out to be a real thug. He tried to force me into a broom closet by the ladies room just as Irma was coming out. I'm pushing the jerk away and he's resisting. Irma holds the door to the ladies room open and nods to me, I duck under his arm and try to twist away from his grip, but he's strong...at least he was until Irma kicked him in the balls and pulls me into the ladies room! Irma braces herself against the door as he angrily hammers on it from the outside, but that drew attention. The hammering stopped and we hear some girls outside saying "it locked!" Irma peaks out and he's gone from the hallway. So out we go until we get to the ballroom where the dancing is in full swing. We see him standing in the shadows waiting. Irma takes my hand and out we go onto the dance floor."

"Did he follow you?" Janie asks, they have taken the wine bottle and their glasses and are now sitting on the couch. Janie leans back and lays her arm along the top of the couch, her legs tucked under so that she can watch Nellie.

"He did, but a single guy on the dance floor was too weird for him. So we kept dancing, fast dances and then slow dances, keeping an eye out. The slow dances are where it get's interesting. It's one thing to fast dance with a girl, its another to slow dance. That didn't bother Irma. I was too scared to care...and I didn't know anybody there--the place was his choice. Still, we did get a few stares. That was her first hug, she just stepped in, put her arms around me, and folded herself into my curves, all warm and cozy and well sexy too. It was so...so hot, like being pressed into something wonderful, so new and exciting I was swept away as they say. One dance, another, then a few fast dances just to cool us down. By then we didn't care about the thug, we were invincible together. She took me home that night on the back of her big black motorcycle, deep rumbling motor, long dark streets, fleeting street lights, going blindly to an unknown place, hair flying every which way, me pressed into her back, willing arms wrapped tight across the bareness of her flat warm belly.

"Yeah," Janie says, "that is hot, maybe you should write about it--make a romantic story, a Harlequin for girls who want girls." Janie squeezes her legs together when she says this, because when she says sexy, she means sexy--its wet down there where she has had little attention of late.

"I know" Nellie says, her left hand reaching across the top of the couch to touch Janie's fingers. Janie turns her hand palm up and strokes the undersides of Nellies fingers. The touching fingers tremble, like a vibration, the sound of a distant tinkle, a tolling felt but unheard.

Their reverie is broken by the sound of clumping boots up wooden steps as into the room, the selfsame Irma bursts.

"Well! Well!" Irma giggles, "What have we here? Holding hands with my girl?"

Irma stands for a moment surveying their startled expressions and then plops down on the couch in the space between their opposing knees.

Looking like attitude gone bad, she takes Janie's hand and says, "How do you do? I'm Irma, the jealous lover,"

"I'm Janie the new cookie baker." Janie says and shakes Irma's hand. "We were just talking about how you and Nellie met." Nellie is watching them both. She is impressed how cooly Janie is able to look Irma in the eye. Irma, she sees, is impressed too, most girls would shy away or be defensive from her banter. Irma looks intimidating: Beautiful stark white face, cheeks in aquiline curves framed by dark curls; curls teased into long wavy bangs that fray outward, like an afro, to frame her face with a Medusa-like menace--a menace that vanishes at the first hint of a smile. Irma smiles a lot, the humor rests in her eyes like fairy dust, whimsical and a hint wanton.

"You're a red head, too. My blondie likes red heads and cookies." Irma smiles now and pinches Janie's thigh, "I'm in trouble."

'Quit" Nellie says, and wraps her arms around Irma and gives her a big wet kiss. "Leave my roomy alone."

"Oh no!" Irma giggles, "Asleep with my girlfriend in the same room. That can't be good, if you were a boy, Janie, she'd be pregnant in no time." Then she looks closely at Janie, "Have you kissed her yet, pretty girl?"

"Irma" Nellie says, pinching Irma's ear, "behave."

"OK," Irma says, "I'll kiss her then!" and before Janie can say a word or even scamper away as she was planning to just a minute ago, in moves Irma, big red lips smiling, eyes brimming with laughter, to give her a long wet kiss.

"Hmm, yummy," Irma says, "now its your turn, Miss Slut." And guides the girls blushing faces toward each other over the chasm of timidity and fascination that before barred them from their wish. Just inches away, allowing the easy pressure of Irma's warm hand on her neck, Janie sees the inviting lips of Nellie, parted, moist, even eager and knows she wants the kiss to happen, will not resist its sweet eminence. Then lips touch lips and press together warm and warmer, then wet and then--ah!--the tip of a tongue, but still together, slippery and sweet, eager and still not stopping...until. "OK, OK, girls, I'm glad we're acquainted now, but you don't need to cum--yet."

The word finally registers and adds to the heat and the wet down there until Janie is forced to secretly acknowledge their likelihood (I almost could have cum...how long since...). Nellie is panting, too. This was way too fast--damned Irmy, but she is oddly happy. Here they are together. All of them. As long as Janie stays.

Nellie reaches out and holds Janie's hand. "It was really nice to kiss you--but it's still not right. Irma like's to shock people. It means she likes you. So don't be afraid, no one will touch or kiss you without you wanting them too. OK, sweetie?" Nellie asks.

Janie nods, still dazed, dwelling on the welling desire within, and thinks, That's the problem, I might want them too. 'Them!' oh, oh.

"Did you leave any dinner for your girlfriend?" Irma asks, watching the wonder in Janie's eyes and knowing how to play it, a crescendo and then a soft melody, high notes and later maybe, just maybe, the thump of the bass, chord on chord.

"Come on!" Nellie pulls Irma up, "Give the girl a rest. Later on we'll put on some music and I'll show you how my hot Irma dances."

Janie nods again. Apparently I'm struck dumb, she thinks, and watches them putter in the kitchen, heating up the left over salmon. I guess its better if we all have fish breath, she thinks idly, stretching her legs out onto a footstool. She takes another sip of the wine, her lips touching the clear round curve of the glass, remembering other amazing lips just kissed.

Irma comes back from the kitchen and sits next to Janie, resting her arm casually across Janie's shoulders. I should have left, thinks Janie. Too much reverie can get a girl in trouble with Miss Irmy.

"So 'Irmy' is a nickname?" Janie asks.

"It's better than the Irmy-the-Wormy I was called in grade school."

"Yep."

"You have a nickname Janie?"

"No, and I don't want one either." Janie says.

"You're asking for it!" Irma smiles, and innocently begins to rub Janie's shoulder, her fingers nimble and gentle, assaying her a few inches at a time.

"Stop that!" Janie says and playfully takes Irma's arm from around her shoulders.

"OK, your girlfriends back. Now stop pestering Janie." Nellie says cheerfully and sits beside Irma. She is holding a long pillow which she puts lengthwise across Janie's lap. "This is a chastity pillow in case Irm gets frisky."

"I would never endanger your girlfriend's chastity, Miss Slut. That reminds me: She wants a nickname."

"Do not," Janie says.

"Does too." Irma pokes Janie in the ribs with her elbow.

Nellie swings Irma's legs around and wedges herself lengthwise so that she can put her head on the pillow on Janie's lap. Irma lays her head next to Nellie's, and says, "Two sweet peas in Janie's pod, how nice." She smiles up at Janie, "A nickname huh?"

"Nooo..." Janie says. Before her is the dark-almost black-haired Irma, all curls and attitude, now playfully smiling, wallowing in the closeness of her Nellie; and there is the strawberry blond Nellie, that same crinkle of humor tender in her eyes as she looks at her Irma. Janie takes Irma's hand and puts it in Nellie's, holding them both together a moment or two longer than necessary, admiring the sensuous beauty of these two sirens at rest unexpectedly on her very lap.

They giggle, "I think she likes us!" Of course this causes Janie to quickly remove her hand, so that now she is holding her hands together piously on her chest, afraid of where they might wander.

"Now there's a pretty picture," Irma says, "we could call her 'Miss Prim.'"

"Miss Prim" is not a good nickname," Nellie says, "I was thinking of something with 'cookie' in it."

"Cookie is too tame...we need something hot now that we are friends...all my girlfriends are hot." Irma says, kissing her fingers and stroking Janie's cheek playfully. Predictably, Janie blushes, the rosie color highlighting her light skin, blending with the brighter red highlights of her hair.

As Nellie and Irma watch, she turns, as if she could tuck her blushing face under a wing and fly away...away from this playful torment and intensely sweet attention.

"Blush!" Irma says.

"Blushing rose." Nellie adds.

"Too long, just rosie." Irma says.

"Just Rosie--JR."

"Don't be obtuse." Irma says.

"Oh, big word, biker babe. Are you seducing English teachers now?"

"Only you," Irma says, her two fingers begin walking catlike down the center of Nellie's blouse, when the cat pauses between the graceful mounds of her breasts and raises its forefinger to fondle Nellie's breast, Irma sees Janie's eyes widen.

"Well, guess I better let you guys have some privacy..." Janie says unable to take her eyes off of Irma's fingers as they now gently stroke the press of Nellie's nipple outlined hard on the rising promontory of her white shiny blouse.

Nellie extends a hand past Janie's pressed together hands so that her fingers lightly touch Janie's soft frizzy red hair, pressing inward along its slope to caress the side of Janie's head. "Rosie..." she says and feels the slight, unwilling shudder that travels up Janie's back, "shhh, shhh, no worries, just stay with your girlfriends, we want you to watch, we won't get carried away, we like you being with us."

So this is what it means to belong, Janie thinks, to be invited into a warm and cozy place. She sighs resting her head against the sofa, leaning to let Nellie's gentle fingers slip to the side of her neck and linger there. The fingers move lower, giving Janie that tingling again, a warmth of temptation, but Nellie simply takes one of her hands and holds it loosely, no pressing even where pressing would indeed be welcome there between the valley of Janie's waiting breasts.

Janie closes her eyes, Maybe if I don't watch, this tingling will go away. Nellie said they wouldn't get carried away, but it's not them I'm worried about is it Janie girl? There in the dark behind closed eyes, she hears a big wet smooch that she takes to be Irma's provocative kiss. She remembers those laughing lips and wonders what another kiss would feel like. This sets her to thinking of Nellie's voluptuous kissing. Boys don't kiss like that. They don't draw you in and take you where, god is that Nellie a good kisser. Lucky Irma, she thinks, as the sounds of wet kisses bauble up through her reverie. Just a peak, she rationalizes, just one...

She feels Nellie's head turn and then feels fingers pulling at her socks, Now what? She thinks, as her bare feet feel the cool air. Then warm knowing fingers begin to kneed the flesh and bones of her tired feet. She feels another shift in weight as Irma lifts up from her lap. In the dark, she concentrates on the what and where of Irma's expected touch. Still she keeps her eyes closed, willing herself to wait, excited by the secret anticipation of what will happen next. She hasn't long to wait. Someone, it must be Irma, is lightly stroking her fingers, gently lifting the finger tips up and up to...?

Ah, to lips, soft, full Irma lips, the lips she just now wanted to kiss again. Then her hands are moved again and let down to rest on the warmth of Nellie who has turned onto her back--she must be watching--leaving Janie's feet to dangle there in the cool air bereft of her touch. But she is soon distracted. Her hands are laid one on Nellie's upper chest and other on her warm flat abs. Into her ear the wicked Irma whispers, "Don't let your hands wander all over my girlfriend, even if she is a slut who lusts after your virgin body."

Jane is very still, partly because Irma's whisper ended in a kiss to her ear which felt weird and erotic and partly because of the delicious warmth that is now rising up from Nellie, a cuddly warm girl mitten for her hands--hands whose fingers spread out the better to feel the heat. Janie wants to protest that she is not a virgin, but here on this couch surrounded by all that is new and exciting, warm and bewildering, she realizes that indeed she is. Her eyes are still pressed close against the sweet unknown, the imprint of warm lips and spread fingers awhirl in ever growing desire, she feels an involuntary moan escape half-parted lips. "I like you, too, sweet girl," says Irma softly, gently enfolding Janie's parted lips with her own.

Nellie takes the hand from her chest and kisses the palm, "God don't you just love it when Irma seduces you, Janie? Isn't she as sexy as I told you?"

Irma is tugging Nellie to sit up so that now two sets of lips alight on the shimmering beauty, sweet nectar, of Janie's face like humming birds aflutter. Soon that face is awash with tears, tears of joy as Janie hugs her new found girlfriends fast to her trembling chest. Instead of pursuing her more, the girls settle and snuggle into the warmth of Janie's breasts letting her settle in and be comforted, finding themselves protective of the crying girl.

"Come to bed," Nellie say, "we just want to hold you--some other time we might want to do more if you let us--but now we just want to be friends and snuggle.

The warmth and the wine and her tiredness make her feel woozy as they help her to Nellie's big bed. Shyly, she keeps her eyes closed and listens to them talk about her like she is a child-- "She'll feel funny waking up between us, especially if you sleep naked." This from Nellie, who is pulling out a long night gown. Janie feels her blouse being unbuttoned, then cool air and then soft cotton slipping loosely over her, cascading to her feet. Eyes still closed, reveling in the sweet dark, like chocolate filled with hidden delights, she feels fingers undoing her jeans under the nightie. At least some privacy, she thinks, to hide my wet panty. Then, wow, she's sure its a kiss! As she feels lips down their pressing quickly against her panty in the center of all that wetness. Oh!

A quick pat on her butt, then in her ear a soft delighted giggle, "Sorry Rosie, I couldn't resist a stolen kiss," comes Irma's whisper.

Nellie scolds Irma, "You didn't! Rose open your eyes, so you know where to slap this slut!" It is so nice to stay in the sensual dark with the sirens, to be in a dream, but the Janie hears the whack of flesh on bare flesh and cannot resist looking. In the warm light now, Irma's naked form is turned away to deflect Nellie's slap, but there on her bottom is an intriguing red mark. The fighting begins then as Irma is toppled onto the bed, revealing the dark curls of her mound, trimmed, Janie sees fleetingly, in the perfect shape of a spouting fountain. Next is the near naked form of Nellie pressed against Irma and squirming to avoid being tossed on her back. The girls look back at Janie for approval of their antics and laugh when they see she is wide-eyed.

"Now she opens her eyes!" Irma says, and waves her to join them. "Come on sweet girl we won't bite. And no more stolen kisses--nice as they might be."

Nellie, scoots her night gown down modestly, and sits up, taking Janie's hand, tugging her to join them. Janie's face is rosie again, thinking of the red mark on Irma's bottom, the fountain made of Irma's dark curly hair, and the glimpse of the blond hair covering Nellie's pussy. She climbs into the bed, guided by Nellie. Then she is enfolded in warm arms, the press of bodies snuggling, first Irma...surprisingly sweet Irma and her forbidden kiss...and Nellie, oh, Nellie...then a smile for the light chaste kisses that say goodnight...as she drifts off to sleeping, wondering could this really be but one day at the Bella Rosa Bakery.

Chapter 3: In the Valley of the Curves

It is a chilly morning in the loft. Three colors of hair peak from the edge of the down comforter under which the girls snuggle, their svelte shapes pressed flush together like spoons filled with soft butter. Up the stairs comes Snooky, who is off from school because of an unexpected snow day, eager to begin her apprenticeship to the cookie master. When she sees Janie sandwiched between her aunt and Irma, she smiles happy to see that Janie is in bed with the people she loves. She is pleased because now she can tease her, and maybe, secretly, better understand the allure her mother has for Irma. She hopes Janie will be her confidant, but first there is the little matter of the teasing. This should be fun!

Janie meanwhile has heard the footsteps on the stairs. With her eyes still closed she surveys the wonder of women pressed every which way against her. Well, maybe not every which way...no fingers where they shouldn't be, so there's that, she thinks. All along her back she feels warmth and even the pert mounds of Irma's breasts through the thin cotton of her borrowed nightie--those breasts must be naked because she can feel their form warmly pressed beneath her shoulder blades. Along her front, another body warms her: She finds her arm is snugged against the flatness of Nellie's warm belly. She certainly is fit, Janie thinks, noting with a dreamy touch of embarrassment how her fingers have tucked themselves comfortably along the natural curve of her warm flank, making Nellie her personal blanket. She stretches a bit and notices how her legs are entangled with Irma's; frowning a little ruefully, she acknowledges the enticing hotness of Irma's leg snugged between her thighs. Not all the way there, she thinks, but too close for... Then she feels nimble fingers tickling the undersides of her feet and hears Snooky giggle.

"Jeez, can't leave you by yourself without you being seduced by my Auntie and her Irma," Snooky says. All she hears are moans in reply as she widens her attack on the rest of their feet that struggle now to hide themselves under the covers.

Janie opens her eyes and rolls on her back as the shifting bodies move around her to protect themselves from Snooky's tickling. Snooky grabs the corner of the blanket and fans it, revealing a naked Irma holding onto a corner of the blanket rolled into a ball like an armadillo, her head tucked under Janie's arm.

Snooky smacks Irma's bear bottom, "Ha! Why are you naked, bad girl!" Snooky smiles--at last she is able to smack Irma's bottom, something she has wanted to do for some time. Another few whacks, and she jumps onto the bed and snuggles next to Irma.

"You look like an armadillo all curled up next to Janie!" Snooky says.

"That's no reason to spank me, you dog!" Irma says.

"Yes, it is!" Snooky says, "I've always wanted to spank you,"

"You have?"

"Yep!"

"How come? Are you becoming a little lezzy?"

"Noo, I don't think so."

"Well..."

"You have a pretty bottom and you deserve to be spanked because sometimes you make my Mom cry."

"Ah...I like the pretty part and I am sorry to make your Mom cry."

"Just don't make a habit of it." Snooky says, and snuggles closer.

"I won't," Irma says, "you do know your Mom and I are still friends, don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess so. That's what Dad said when I asked him about it."

"What did your Dad say?" Nellie asks her voice muffled from under the blanket.

"He said Irma was Mom's friend and he was happy when they get along," Snooky says, "but he also said, sometimes they like to hurt each other so that they can make up. He told me if the fighting bothers me to go visit you, Aunt Nellie!"

"Roscoe understands a lot for a man," Irma says, putting her arm around Snooky. "Anytime you want to talk, we're here, even Janie--who might have a different perspective, being a virgin and all."

Janie pinches Irma's butt, surprised at the easy impertinence of her casual pinch, "You can ask me anything, Snooky, but don't believe everything Irma says."

Snooky props herself up on an elbow so that she can look Janie in the eye, "So are you a lesbian now too? Did Irma seduce you like she did my Mom and my Auntie?"

Janie smiles and pats Snooky on the shoulder, "We better get dressed. The cookies won't wait. I thought you weren't coming until after school."

"Oh! Oh! It must be true! You didn't answer my question!" Snooky says. Janie thinks that if Snooky were standing up she'd stamp her feet.

"OK, OK," Janie says, "yes I am evading that personal question but only because I don't know the answer. I was seduced a little by your beautiful Auntie and her wonderful friend Irma, but I am still a virgin...you know as a lesbian...or someone curious...or just happy to have you all as friends." Janie sighs at her obvious confusion, blushing.

Snooky reaches over Irma and gently holds Janie's hand, "I didn't mean to embarrass you. You can be anything you want, as long as you're my friend." Snooky says, "Sorry..."

Janie hugs her and says, "It's fine. Like your Irma says we're all here for you." Then she kisses her on the cheek and then Irma kisses her other cheek.

Snooky blushes, then laughs: "Lesbians are soo affectionate."

Nellie borrows under the covers until she is laying across Janie so that she can look at her niece, "Are you okay, Snooky? We are just being nice to Janie."

Janie rests her arm across Nellie's back and smiles, "It was a little intense for the first day on the job, Snooky, but I love meeting everyone--even the wicked Irmy-the-Wormy--and especially you."

"Irmy-the-Wormy, huh!" Irma laughs and begins to seriously tickle Janie and Snooky until the whole bed erupts in giggles as a rolling mass of legs and arms and feet scramble to avoid Irma's vicious tickles.

Janie slides out of bed, just in time to avoid another grab for her underarm, and says, "Quit, before I wet the bed!"

"Your gonna wash the sheets, Rosie!" Nellie says, and kisses Irma's nose as she tells Snooky, "See what you started, girl!" Then Nellie is on her feet and streaking to the bathroom, "I'm next, Janie!"

Irma and Snooky stop moving and look at each other. Irma says, "You know your Mom and I love each other no matter what."

"I hope so," Snooky says. "What about Dad?"

"We love him, too."

"You do?"

"He's my best male friend."

"You won't take Mom from him?"

"God no, girl!" Irma laughs, "What are you thinking under those pretty curls? It's not possible for anyone to take your Dad from your Mom--no one loves Desdemona more than your Dad!"

Snooky, her eyes shiny with tears, hugs Irma. "Thank you, Irmy! I love you, too!"

Janie and Nellie have returned just in time to hear the last part of their conversation; they look at the two of them embracing. Nellie whispers to Janie, "Aren't they beautiful? We're so happy your here."

"Cookies! Cookies!" Janie says, wiping a tear from her eye. "Let's go, Snook!"

She pulls Snooky's offered hand and helps her up. Another hug and then Janie scampers around the room to find her clothes. The girls watch her until she looks at them pointedly, "Doesn't a girl get a chance to dress!"

They turn away and busy themselves, Irma smirks, "Virgin..." to which Snooky smacks smartly on the butt. "Ow!" Irma says, "Quit, don't be a baby bitch!"

"Baby what!" Snooky says and grabs a pillow to beat Irma with.

"Ready?" Janie says, "I hate to breakup this fight, but..." and takes another pillow to gang up on Irma.

"Bullies!" Nellie says, "Leave my love alone." And flings herself on top of Irma.

"True love is her shield!" Janie says, smiling.

Snooky nods her head and pats her aunts feet and pinches Irma's toe, "See you later you hungry alligators!"

The weeks pass, the cookies sell. Clients come to know the names of the bakers by their specials: Janie's Choice, Snookie's Favorites, Nellie's Delights, and Roscoe's Picks arranged on their favorite plates. The coffee business grows and the bakery's tables fill. The spell of expresso mingles with the sounds of customers noshing and talking and laughing. Many believe they discovered this little bakery that before seemed undistinguished, somehow out of the way. Now it is blooming under the deft hands of the women, their warmth growing outward, inveigling like Christmas music in comfortable platitudes of peace and goodwill. The customers like the easy recall of their names, their favorite coffees, and the cookies they like, reinforced by the platters of samples offered by those fabulous baker ballerinas in their white aprons and inviting smiles, smudges of flour dabbed artfully on their rosy cheeks. The girls charm their customers as the samples grow into orders to go, boxed brightly, tied in gay ribbons to match the season.

Upstairs in the cozy attic Janie is still a virgin, content to be warmed but not overheated. To often--but not too often!--she lays her tired happy body next to her sweet Nellie or her tart but tasty Irma, their snuggling forms a blanket of secret delight. Sometimes she is lucky and gets to be in the middle, where the surrounding warmth and murmured conversations whisk her away to dreamland. Other times, lying in her bed, not that many feet away from their big bed at the end of the room, she listens amazed at their gasps of pleasure. Making love again like wild women, how do they have the energy, Irmy helped out all day in the kitchen so I know she must be as beat as I am, but she is making my beautiful noisy Nellie so happy. God, I love them both! Irma hasn't touched me since that last time weeks ago when she was teasing me. (Oh the memory of her lips pressed against the wet center of my panty, dah! Quit!) They don't tease me intensely like they did at first. Maybe, like me, they're afraid of screwing up our friendship. Still, when the last gasp of panting orgasm becomes a delighted giggle or a soft moan, she often slips out of her bed and snuggles against the back of one the girls. They know this and take turns offering their backs and a little, but not too much space, for Janie to slip in beside them and press herself gratefully against them. Sometimes they encourage her to roll over into the valley between their still overheated bodies, where the lush smells of sex and sweat and orgasm mingle with their delighted giggles as they lightly tease her: Caught you! Does Irmy-the-Wormy's pussy smell good? Then a big kiss... Taste it! Nellie once shockingly said. She thinks about this, delicious with anticipation but not yet ready to leave her warm bed, drowsy as she is with her own sexy dreams, Afterglow kisses are like the taste of love...I hope my sweetheart will enjoy them. I'm going to get her to stay overnight, but I need to think of what to do with Snooky. Surely her mother would be inhibited by...

Chapter 4: The Love of Your Life, Among Many

Janie met Desdemona a few weeks after settling in with Nellie. On a rainy, gray Sunday when the bakery was closed and the apartment quiet, empty of her pretty tormentors, Janie is enjoying the solitude, absorbed in a book. Desdemona comes tiptoeing up the stairs, secretly hoping to catch Nellie and Irma in flagrante--the better to tease and, if she's lucky, to join them. Desdemona peaks around the corner separating the stairs from the attic. In the light of the reading lamp, sits an angelic young woman, an innocent girl who in stillness and concentration is a study of beauty glimpsed. Cascading red hair frame an intent face inclined in light: glowing girl and beautiful with delicate yet oddly forceful features of alabaster, a young sensual face sculpted with mystery, content and character. Desdemona almost gasps, later likening her reaction to the first time she saw Michelangelo's Pieta during a tour of the Vatican. Janie looks up to see a dark-haired voluptuous woman with parted lips and twinkling eyes that seem to gleam with hunger: She is staring at me like she's hungry and I'm a succulent roasted chicken waiting to be devoured.

"Hi, I'm Desdemona," her mouth dry, heart hammering, she searches for words, any words, "You must be Janie?"

"Oh, hi, you're Snooky's mom! It's nice to finally meet you!" Janie says, putting her book aside and getting up to hug Desdemona.

"Oh! That's nice, a hug!" Desdemona says, awkward in her nervousness. She continues to pat Janie's back like a baby being comforted, a stroke here, a pat there, unwilling to release her from the hug.

"Snooky is always talking about you and the fantastic cookies you're teaching her to make. I hope she isn't overwhelming you; she can be very enthusiastic." Desdemona, still holding onto Janie, is really voicing a longstanding worry that her daughter will become a lesbian because of what she thinks is her own less than sterling influence. Now that she is presented with the evidence of Janie's beauty, she's also hoping that Janie will not be a temptation to Snooky like she is this very moment to herself.

"Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to cling!" Desdemona says, astonished to find her arms still around Janie. (Janie watches the arms falling away and is surprised to feel regret; it was so comforting being patted and stroked like a baby.)

Janie reaches out and hugs Desdemona, holding her close, wanting to take away her embarrassment. She whispers in her ear, "Snooky is a sweet girl who is lucky to have you for a Mom."

"You think?" Desdemona says, a tear welling up unavoidably. Janie feels the dampness on her cheek, and squeezes Desdemona closer, "Yes! Yes!" She loves you like the dickens (I don't know what that means, exactly, but that's what she says). She worries whenever you and Roscoe fight or when you're sad because you miss Irma!"

"She told you about Irma?"

"Of course! And Irma told me about Irma who loves you like the dickens, too. Even your sweet sister-in-law, your ex-lover, loves you like the dickens."

Desdemona has settled into Janie's hug like the slow-dancer's embrace of a tipsy lover. She whispers, "Thank you."

Then Janie surprises herself and says, "I can see why!"

Janie, entranced by the moment they are sharing, takes Dedemona's hand and leads her to the couch, adding with a more intensity than she expects is customary, "Let's have some mulled wine to celebrate our meeting in Nellie's attic."

Janie gets the warm wine and some cookies and puts together an appealing little platter which she sets on the footstool in front of Desdemona. She returns to her seat by the lamp where Desdemona is sitting, self-consciously dabbing her eyes.

"Sometimes it's so hectic, I don't get a moment to think. Work, work and play, play--but I love it." Janie says, "Just like I love your daughter, who is my confidant and my best friend. We are all so impressed with her. Even when she's being moody like any teenage girl, she has the presence of mind to laugh at herself and to go along with our constant teasing."

"She loves you, too! It's always Janie this and Janie that." Desdemona sighs, deciding to be frank--something in Janie seems to call out for it: "I'm worried that she'll be a lesbian like me and that you'll be her first lover."

Janie giggles, "She would be my first lover, too!" Then she reaches out and holds Desdemona's hand, "Don't worry, we are really just best friends. Besides even though Nellie and Irmy try to seduce me, I'm still a lesbian virgin, as they like to say."

Desdemona blushes, "I'm sorry, sometimes I can't keep from saying exactly what I'm worried about."

"Snooky is the same way," Janie says, "I don't think you have much to worry about, her girl friend, Cassie, is a little curious and they have kissed--she told me she told you about Cassie--but I think boys are starting to hover, like bees to a beautiful flower."

"Another problem..." Desdemona says. "So you're not interested in women?" And sighs.

"Is that a sigh!" giggles Janie, "You want my body, too!" and tickles Desdemona who starts to giggle, too. They squirm and playfully fight, until Desdemona lays herself on Janie's lap, snuggles in, and looks up at her, grinning, "Yes! Yes! I saw you sitting here and I almost stopped breathing. What a slut I am, wanting my daughters best friend!"

"You are a slut, but I love it! This couch is magical. And horny. When I first met Irma, Nellie was playing with my fingers on this couch, moving in for more (I think). Then in comes Irma who plops right down between us and teases us mercilessly. They both end up in my lap--like you are now. Even though nothing much happened, I just love being here, like being welcomed home after being lost in the dark.--I like to think of my girlfriends (but not Snooky) as love disguised as seduction. I fell asleep between them. The most sexy thing that happened other than seeing them naked down there (Irma has that sexy fountain design in her pubic hair!) is when Irma kissed the outside of my wet panty--wow!"

"I love it when she does that." Desdemona says wistfully. "So the girls have been nice and not too naughty?"

"Yep, Snooky sometimes sleeps with me, too. It's like a slumber party until we get bombarded with flying pillows by Nellie and Irma because they can't sleep because of our giggles." Then Janie strokes Desdemona's cheek, "You are such a good mother. So what if she's exposed to some differences...the love you and Roscoe shower on her is a joy nothing negative can dilute."

"Oh," Desdemona says, turning her head and pressing herself against Janie until she hears Janie's gurgling stomach and looks up, "Are you hungry, I hear you gurgling."

She starts to move, but Janie strokes her head, "Don't move, please, I like holding you."

"You do?"

"Yes, you are more tempting than my roomies. Sometimes I want them, too, but I don't want there to be jealousy so I don't give in. I'm also trying to set a good example for your daughter. I want her to know a little restraint is not too bad a thing for a young girl to have."

"Do you think she understands? I hope so. Still I worry, she absolutely loves Irma and her Aunt Nellie."

"She does, but she has a mind of her own and they both respect her for it."

"I do, too." Desdemona sighs, burying her face comfortably into Janie's abdomen. "But a Mom--especially someone like me--worries."

"I'll tell you a secret, not something Snooky told me, but something Nellie and I overheard." Janie says, "Snooky was talking to Irma after a big tickle fight--kind of like you're doing to me, but without the sexiness." Janie says, and playfully pinches Desdemona's nipple--"I know what you're doing! Anyway, let me finish before you distract me."

Desdemona groans, "Sorry, I can't seem to keep my hands off you!"

"So Snooky asks Irma if Irma is going to take you away from her father. And Irma reassures her that Roscoe loves you more than anything, that no one can take Roscoe from her Mom--no one loves her Mom more than her Dad!"

"That's why I love Irma--she understands us and she's made a place for Roscoe. As buddies they can tease each other and not feel the kind of jealousy I know would happen if another man were a part of our little neglected love triangle."

"Neglected?"

"I came tiptoeing up here hoping I could find Irma and Nellie making love. I wanted to join them."

"What about Roscoe? He looks very manly to me--wouldn't he object?"

"No. Roscoe and I have a good sex life. I like him all over me, I like him inside me, I like--"

"Enough, Jeez! He's my boss, you know!"

Desdemona giggles, "I could share..."

"Don't even think that. It's bad enough I'm snuggling with my sexy best friend's mother. This is a soap opera, but I do somehow really like being close to you, just keep your clothes on, OK? What would I say to Snooky if I--miss virgin lesbian--had to confess I slept with her mother?"

"Would you tell her?"

"I'd have to--best friend's don't keep secrets. I wonder what she'd say?"

"You could just play with me, couldn't you--please!"

Janie looks down at Desdemona, her beautiful silky black hair rumpled against Janie's belly, the pale skin of her classically beautiful Italian face snuggled in, almost like she wanted to burrow between her legs. "We can play a little bit, but I want to be able to look Snooky in the eye without blushing."

"Play? How do innocent virgin lesbians, play?" Desdemona asks, looking up a Janie, smiling. "Do they tweak the nipples of their women visitors, like you just did? Do they?" Desdemona pauses expectantly and raises her hand until her fingers can caress the slope of Janie's breast.

"Oh," Janie moans, scooting down to better cradle Desdemona's head in her warm lap. "Oh! Oh! You are so naughty--I should tell your many lovers about your advances on their innocent room mate."

"Will you tell them about these fingers?" Desdemona says, her eyes intent, as she slides her forefinger over Janie's pronounced nipple. "Will you tell them about these fingers?" she repeats and moves her finger to caress Janie's lips.

"Should I?" says Janie, holding the hand with the finger that is pressed against her lips. "Should I?" she asks again, her mouth open her tongue licking Desdemona's finger, first along the length, then taking it inside--an erect tasty treat--between moist lips.

"Bad, bad, girl!" Desdemona intones, her other arm now pressed around Janie's bottom, fingers stroking her hip. The she removes her fingers so that she can take Janie's right hand to move it. "Would you like to meet, Miss Pussy, Janie? She is so wet and so needy and so ready to be touched by her Janie."

'That's funny," Janie says, "I don't remember being introduced!" and involuntarily shudders.

"Is Miss Lesbian Virgin shy?" asks Desdemona.

"It's Miss Virgin Lesbian to you, please try to get my title right!"

"Yes, your majesty!" Desdemona giggles and takes Janie's hand ceremoniously to her lips, bestowing on her palm a wet, lingering kiss.

"This is so complicated," Janie mumbles, as her hand is being placed on Desdemona's warm naval. "We should stop..."

"You think?" Desdemona says dreamily, moving her hips unconsciously, pressing the hot hand flat against her abdomen. "Janie, Janie, come in and play, Dessie's little pussy is lonely and wet, waiting in the rain to play all day."

"Dessie?"

"Yours trully."

"Pleased to meet you."

"Dessie is sad. You haven't even kissed me."

"May I kiss you? I am such a slut. I have no will power! You're Snookie's mom and Roscoe's wife, but all I can think of is my hand and your lips and..."

Dessie pulls Janie down along the couch until they are snuggled together.

"Blame it on the horny couch." She says and kisses Janie. Their kiss is a key clicked in a heart-shaped locket, picture perfect, plump curves fitting succulent openings, wet tongue upon hesitant wonder.

"That damned couch!" Janie says, finally taking a breath, awestruck by what it means to kiss the one you know you love. "Will they hate me?"

"They'll tease you to make sure you understand the rules."

"The rules?"

"Yes, the one that says love is not exclusive among friends--you have to share the one you love. And share and share and share. For Roscoe, you'll have to be one of the boys. You and Irma will have to be like beer drinking buddies, buddies he can trust with something precious."

"He's kind of like that now--sort of joking, but serious, making sure that Snooky's OK, that he can trust me. I never thought of men as being that trustworthy, but he does--like its some kind of code."

"Lady knight errant, defender of the heart: The women in my life are his ideal chivalrous buddies, people he can trust to take care of his family."

"Hmm...the women in your life. I like being part of the family, are there more?"

"A few, you'll meet them if they visit. Can you share me?"

"I'll get pointers from Roscoe--he must be a saint!"

Roscoe remembers that first time. How he finds them. Angels playing. Heavenly bodies writhing together: taunt flanks, silky strong sleek, wanton and dangerous--an aura of lust so dense it made him dizzy. He thinks he should hate his friend Irma, but he knows that's just a lie his bruised ego tells. He knew all along, an intuitive little nudge here and there, how his lovely Dessie loved her girlfriends, even if he didn't put it into so many words. Now standing at the open door to their bedroom, he watches the angels playing in the lamplight revealing, their hot gasps of unbound pleasure growing, the lovely curves moving, twisting, pumping, shiny with the vigor of their wonderful womanly heat. It is beauty, he realizes: their nature, strong and true, a force unto themselves. Musing, an involuntary smile forming: all is well how often does a man get a glimpse of heaven.

"At first, I thought he didn't care...didn't love me enough to care who or what I did. Then, one day when he caught Irma and me together, he explained it to us. We were so nervous. Irma is all flush and rosy and naked, tangled up in the sheet she hastily pulled over her overheated body. I'm still aching with excitement. He can smell me on Irma's tense wet lips, see the shine of sweat on my heaving body. 'Easy girls,' Roscoe says, holding onto Irma's ankle. 'It's OK, I'm not mad, I just want what's best for my sweetheart--do you want what's best for her, Irma?' he asks. Irma was so cool--no bluffing or awkward BS. Here's what my baby said: 'I want her just like you do--for better or worse. I won't ever hurt her--she's the one I've always loved, so if she tells me to go, I'll go.' You can see Irma, sitting up, steeling herself worried about what might happen. Roscoe looks at her carefully, and then takes her hand, the one holding the sheet covering her chest. She doesn't resist and the sheet falls away. While not exactly ignoring Irma's beautiful breasts but not making it a big deal either, he moves her hand so that I can hold it--and says seriously, a half smile lingering on his lips, 'We can share.' Then he kicks off his shoes and lays down next to me. He moves her hand again, resting it in his palm. Irma looks him in the eye but speaks to me, 'Will sharing make you happy, Des?' I start crying, telling them how much I love them both, how sorry I am for being so fucking weak. Then they are hugging me and kissing me, next they tickle me, and then, to make it really strange, they start exchanging tidbits of intimate information, buddies again, about where and how and when the better to make me cum.

Irma says: "She doesn't tell tales--do you make her cum properly?"

Roscoe, with a rueful grin: "I make her cum frequently."

Irma, teasing Roscoe, her finger flicking my nipple: "Frequent is good, but proper is better."

Roscoe, smiling at us: "You should demonstrate, I'm a slow learner."

Irma: "OK, husband lover, just tell me when to stop if you get nervous--this might be a little intense for a man."

Roscoe, playfully punches Irma's shoulder (I've seen him do the same thing to his brother): "Go on, show me how to make my sweetie cum."

From then on, I get a little vague, it was like a dream come true. I remember Irma kissing me and then she started that licking, those long slow licks that drive a girl crazy. First a little catnip nosing about the ears, the lightest touch of her tongue, reigniting the fires she had burning just minutes ago. Maybe she's showing off or, I'm thinking, she wants to please Roscoe by pleasing me. Then she presses in and takes in the whole hot arc of my neck, making me tremble as her tongue gets closer to that sensitive hollow of my throat, as her hands start to stroke and fondle. All the while I'm cradled in Roscoe's strong gentle arms, surrounding me with comfort and security, making me feel like I'm exactly where I should be, like I'm doing exactly what's right there under Irma's wandering tongue. I watch Roscoe surreptitiously just to make sure this dream is real. His expression is like a dad watching his daughter's first soccer game: Intent, encouraging, and cautious, not wanting his precious little girl to get hurt, but encouraging her to do her best. It was ironic as hell, Janie, because here I was with my sexy lover getting jealous because Roscoe was giving Irma that same expression--some daughters don't share their papas' love too well. Anyway, he sees what's up and starts to laugh at me, interrupting Irma's ministrations. 'Don't be jealous and pout, you can share me, don't you think?" and starts tickling me. I start giggling--all the nervousness and jealousy exploding like a sigh of hot air--as Irma smirks, 'women!' and joins Roscoe to tickle me into uncontrollable laugher and then hugs as I tell them through tears that I just cannot stop, 'I love you, I love you both!'

Janie strokes Desdemona's arm and then, to break the intensity that floods over her from hearing Dessie's story, buries her head into her neck and--ouch!--nips the skin. "Is this the hollow?"

"You are so mean for someone who looks so young and innocent." Dessie says, "Just snuggle, no biting, Miss Virgin Lesbian Vampire!"

Like déjà vu, Janie later thinks, from the hallway comes Irma's voice: "What did you call Janie?"

"She nipped my neck, I called her Miss Virgin Lesbian Vampire."

Irma calls down the stairs to Nellie, "Do you know that our little virgin is a vamp?"

They hear the steps and the rustle of paper bags as Nellie comes into the room and eyes Janie and Desdemona lying together on the couch.

"Oh! Oh! Looks like the couch got to Janie again."

"Smell their fingers!" Irma says smiling wickedly. Kneeling by the couch to take Janie's hand from off Desdemona's belly she sniffs: "Fi, Fie, Fo, Fom, do I smell pussy, yum?" Then her hand snakes under Desdemona's panty and cups her playfully, and with a deepened voice "Is this the wet pussy, innocent little Janie craves?"

Janie blushing furiously, pinches Irma's breast, and says, "Your fingers never rest."

Nellie drops the bags on the kitchen table and knells next to Irma. She affectionately strokes first Janie's and then Dessie's face: "Did my lovely roommate and ex lover get caught?"

"They were very close, but you know how cagy our vamp can be. Smell!" Irma says, taking her hand from Desdemona's panties and putting her wet fingers under Nellie's nose.

"Smells good. Why vamp?"

"As in Virgin Lesbian Vampire. Janie was nipping Dessie's neck." Irma says.

"Let's see." Nellie says and moves Desdemona's luxurious black hair from her neck. "No marks--she must have made the fang marks heal like in the movies." Then she leans down and licks her neck, "Here?" As her finger presses lightly, she adds, "I bet it was here--she is so sensitive here." She bends her head and again succulently licks the hollow of Dessie's throat, lips parted and wet. "I once saw Irma make her cum just by licking right here. Remember?" she adds, looking from Dessie to Irma, grinning wildly.

"God!" Janie says, looking at them all now, seeing how they seem to hum with good humor, mellow in their playful teasing, pleased she knows her Dessie now and pleased to belong to them all, her lovely, loving girlfriends: "You are too much!" Then she kisses first Dessie, then Nellie, and then Irma: "I love you all!"

Chapter 5: Loving Naughty Nellie, Even If

Jeez, thinks Janie, being room mates sure needs a whole lot of patience... Nellie and Janie are in Nellie's red civic, arguing. Janie, who usually drives to cut down on the grated teeth and impromptu curses of the other drivers they encounter, gave in to Nellie. Everything was mellow until Nellie's abrupt swerve interrupted Janie's reverie. It seemed unrelated, but soon a pattern of choice digs here, a sarcastic aside there, and suddenly the mellow is gone. Janie, fuming, wants to get out of the car and walk home. Nellie's cheeks are rosy with anger. They ride in offended silence, each fending off the other with unsaid recriminations. Why can't I just drive my goddam car when I want? Who made you the queen of fucking drivers. Oh, damn, why am I so mad? And from Janie's side a hurt pout, Nellie is so picky, I know its her car, but at least I get us there in one piece. Even so why am I being a catty bitch, that comment about her friend (Maybe you should get Caroline to drive!) was especially mean since her just totaled her car.

The internal recriminations continue on in strained silence until Nellie bursts out with, "I'm just doing the best I can--just because you drive better than me doesn't mean I shouldn't practice now and then!" And turns into the mall, enduring the silence with pained indifference. She parks and turns to Janie her face sad. Janie has a big tear rolling down her check. They reach for each other at the same time and hug: Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!

Nellie turns and kisses Janie fully on the lips, "You are such a bitch sometimes!"

"I know," Janie says, "I was pouting because I couldn't get my way--just 'cause I got in the habit of driving doesn't mean it's my car. I am a bitch!"

"I love you miss bitch!"

"Better not let Irmy know, she'll be jealous."

"She'd be happy I finally broke through."

"Hmm...you must mean my defenses."

"Yes, Miss Virgin Vamp!"

"Let's go!" Janie says self-consciously, wondering what they would say if they found out about her secret love. Maybe I should test the hot water with Nellie before I get burned by Dessie. Relationships can be get really complicated around here.

They mall is mostly empty. As they roam from store to store, they shyly bind the wounds of resentment until at last they heal--in the dressing room of Dillard's. Janie is lounging in the changing room while Nellie tries on yet another dress. She is sitting up, leaning on the wall by the mirror, her legs stretched across a bench, dreamily watching Nellie preen.

"Well!"

"Yeah?"

"Don't fall asleep, bitch!" Nellie giggles, as she nudges Janie with her bare toe.

"Hey! You don't know where that dirty toe has been."

"It's been in my shoe."

"And now its on the floor, mingling with all the other dirty toes that came before."

"A bit squeamish, are we?" Nellie says, snaking her toe up Janie's thigh.

Janie grabs Nellie's ankle and holds her foot with her right hand. "Eww, I need rubber gloves!" and laughs, as she tickles the bottom of Nellie's foot.

Interrupted from adding the skirt to the low cut blouse she is trying on to wow Irma, Nellie hops about half-naked in a thong as she fends off Janie's handhold on her ankle. "Stop! You're gonna pay, Virgin Lezzie Vamp!" she says.

Janie laughs, "Be funny if someone overheard us in the next booth, huh?"

"Especially if we start moaning!" giggles Nellie as she gives up and sits on Janie's thighs. "You make me act like a teenager, you know."

"I bring out the best in you--well mostly." She adds remembering their argument in the car.

"The best, huh?" Nellie punctuates her statement by a lingering, full-handed pinch between Janie's legs, causing her to drop her ankle.

"Quit, Nellie!" Janie squirms as Nellies fingers continue to fondle her.

"Don't get too wet, Rosie." Nellie grins, "We might have to buy you a coat to cover your shame."

Meanwhile, with each stroke of Nellie persistent fingers, made all the more insistent by the wetness they feel on Janie's jeans, Janie seems to purr.

"Do I hear the virgin purring, pretty little pussy?" Nellie asks, increasing the intensity of her finger strokes, measuring their affect by the wetness growing on her fingertips. She raises her fingers to Janie's mouth, "Taste?"

Janie, despite being in the heat of Nellie's tease, is more affected by the pleasure that radiates from Nellie, the hot tension bright across her face, as though she were masturbating herself, not her friend. She giggles, "So this is what friends with benefits means!"

"Hmm..." Is all Nellie can mumble, her eyes oddly unfocused as her fingers move faster, as Janie is stopped from her talking, as lust catches up with her, surrounds her, causing the first long moan she cannot suppress.

Janie's hand holds on tight to Nellie's bare thigh as the moan bubbles up and captures her whole, flayed and simmered, plated and ready to eat. "God," she thinks, "where did that come from?"

"Nellie! Nellie!" she sighs, "Please! Please!"

"Yes!" Nellie says, as she briefly stops to adjust Janie's hand, pushing it under her thong, "Please! Please, pretty please my pussy!"

With each stroke and reciprocated thrust, Janie loses it then, falls over the edge into the deep where coming is all there is, wave after pent-up wave, until...

"Are you all right in their, ma'am?" comes the voice of the cashier who knocks on the door.

Nellie startles, "Oh sorry, I stubbed my toe. I'm fine."

Yet, another moan slips out of Janie, grimacing as she tries to contain herself, her fingers still tangled in Nellie beneath the thong.

"Is there someone else in there?"

"Just my sister..."

"I'm sorry, you can only have one person in the changing room at a time."

"Oh, sorry. We'll be right out."

Nellie and Janie bust out in giggles as Nellie says, "I have a reputation to maintain...being your older sister and all."

Janis pinches her clit, holding it pressed between its slippery lips, "You're such a bad influence, sis!"

"Let go, vamp! I won't be able to show my face in here again."

"What about me? Look how wet I am."

Nellie touches the now really wet jeans, her hand cupping her as she says, "That's what purses are for miss not-so-virgin."

Janie looks up at Nellie who is now standing up, one hand holding the pants she came in with. She mouth's 'thank you.'

Nellie smiles and puts on the pajama bottoms (a source of barbed teasing from Janie and Irma--'dress much,' 'should older woman wear those...?'). Then she bends over the now sitting Janie and gives her a long, long kiss--one with tongues and new found tastes--one that ends in a breathless pant as the women separate to look at the intriguing newness, sweet and sassy, of each other together.

They ride home in good spirits. Nellie drives at Janie's insistence. "Don't you have a rosary in here some place..." They can joke now about their little fight, liking how they made up. Nellie is telling Janie how she can't wait to tell Irma. Janie says she can't wait either, worrying a bit that this is another test for the three of them. Irma now lives in the attic, joking she needs to be around to keep an eye on Janie and Nellie. They both know that money is tight so, like Janie, rent is exchanged for work. Irma is up just after 3:00 a.m. every day to help Roscoe get the morning breads ready. They expect she'll be napping when they get home.

Up the stairs they climb, quiet as church mice. Irma is sprawled across the bed in her work clothes, lightly snorting. "I love that slob," Nellie says.

They sit on either side of Irma and take off her work clothes. Janie does the shoe's, revealing each slim foot after a heavy boot and padded sock is removed. "She has such beautiful feet," Janie whispers to Nellie.

"I bet they're stinky feet now. Wonder what would happen if we washed them."

"She'd wake up, of course, silly."

"Or pee!" Nellie giggles. "Let's try it? Maybe she'd learn to take a shower after work--I'd like that!"

"We're already in trouble enough, don't you think, Miss PJ."

"No we aren't, you'll see."

Nellie unbuttons Irma's shirt, wondering how she can sleep through their whispers.

"Hmm...no bra. Look at your lover, Janie. Isn't she exquisite."

"She's your lover and my friend. Let's have at least a few boundaries here."

"Nope. After our kiss and cum in the mall, what's mine is yours."

"Kiss and cum, huh?"

"Yes."

"You, too, really?" Janie asks, remembering how wet Nellie was.

"Really." Nellie says and leans over and kisses the curious face of Janie, who is marveling at how she made another woman come without even knowing it.

They both turn then to stare at pretty Irma, her blouse unbuttoned. Janie helps Nellie pull off the pants, which take Irma's skimpy panty along with them.

"Would you like me to trim you something special, like I did Irma?"

"You did that?--The fountain?"

"My pride and joy, our fountain of love."

"I remember seeing it the first night I was here. How wild it looked on Irma."

"I don't remember you being trimmed...in fact..."

"We'll take turns trimming." Nellie offers, feeling very generous about her blond, wildly hairy bush--the pride and joy of Irma, who calls it her pussy playground (it's really dense, you know Nellie, like a jungle gym down here, my tongue has to do some real calisthenics in your lovely pussy playground'). "It'll be a surprise for Irma!"

"We'll see," Janie says, warily, wondering what she is getting herself into.

"We'll see! We'll see! You sound just like my mother." Nellie grins.

Chapter 6: Confessions

Keeping her eyes closed, Irma listens to them talk about her, sleepy, but intrigued. So, two new love birds want to wash my feet... And my naughty Nellie wants to be trimmed. What to do, what to do, now that I know their secret... Irma turns on her tummy, feeling a little exposed before the women whom she thinks of so fondly. She snugs the blanket around her. She's gotten so use to teasing Janie, she wonders what she'll do if... It is a delicious thought, the three of them together in lust fulfilled, in the luxurious flesh, swimming together in a warm sea of sex. She can't wait. But still. Still. Friends are forever, while sex for her especially never seems to last. Look at my sweetheart Dessie. She doesn't know exactly what to do--be pulled along by delirious anticipation or to hold back, just in case. I need all the friends I can get. And these two are my very best.

Janie tells Nellie, "If you're going to be trimmed. It cannot be a surprise to your lover. She should help."

Good for you, Janie! Thinks Irma, I would be a little surprised and maybe secretly pissed, but Nellie would never know.--No need to trouble my naughty Nellie.

Nellie giggles and whispers, "So you and Irma want to get down between my legs and play with sharp objects. I'm not sure that's wise. Maybe you'd get carried away and cut your lip."

"My lip?"

"Irma isn't too discerning when it comes to lips," giggles Nellie.

"Ah huh, well I don't have any hair on my lip so she ought to be able to tell the difference."

"Just don't let her get too excited, she might go after any lip in the heat of the moment. But I like these pretty lips," she adds, a finger tip trailing across the seam of Janie's lips.

Wow, Irma thinks, her head buried under the sheet, my Nellie is randy, the little she-goat, she sounds more like a teenage boy than a nannie, posturing for the notoriously reluctant Janie. Even Snooky teases us about our lack of "progress," almost like she wants Janie to come over to the light...makes me wonder what little Miss Snooky's intentions are toward our virgin lesbian vamp. Then, there's her mom, my sweet Desdemona, she is definitely hot after the vamp. My whole world is filled with women who have devious designs on the virgin...if she is still a virgin...time to play.

"Did I hear you want to trim your beautiful playground, Nellie?" Irma mumbles from under the sheet.

"Oh! Your awake! We were just thinking of washing your feet."

"Didn't I hear something about someone--someone with blond hair--wanting a secret trim?"

"Yes, but Janie defended you and said you had to participate in the great trim-out." Nellie says.

Irma sits up, looks down at her nakedness, smiles widely, and grabs Janie by the wrist, "My defender deserves her just reward." And kisses her ardently. When the kiss is finally done, leaving Janie breathless. Irma sniffs around Janie's face, then lightly nuzzles her cheek, "Just checking for the telltale smell of naughty Nellie." Then she reaches for Nellie and wrestles with her onto the bed until she is sitting on top of her, unbuttoning her blouse, "Do you have some bites from a vamp we all know and love, anywhere?"

In shadow and light, what a lovely tableau: Irma astride Nellie, Janie lying on her arm, watching their faux struggle, her mind pleasantly aswirl from yet another kiss from the vixen.

Snooky watches them from the hallway, their silhouettes a study in the feminine form. She studies their beauty, the curves that startle and attract, the sweet slope of their waiting breasts, and the shadows down there where Eve rests in the v of their silky legs. Snooky has a secret: This is not her first clandestine adventure. She is a voyeur restlessly in search of the secret loves that are like flames, fluttering and hot around all the women she knows. When her Mom tried to seduce her friend Janie not so long ago, she was wedged behind the couch, listening intently. Being a teenage sneak, a common trait among her curious girlfriends, has sharpened her eye for hidden nooks and crannies--like the narrow space behind the famed 'horny' couch set out from the wall so that heads won't hit the slope of the attic ceiling when people sit down. Such a great hiding place, but deep down she is not happy being a sneak: She wants them to know she knows, the trouble is she's still figuring it out. Every time she thinks she understands, her Janie surprises her. First with her Mom, now with her Auntie...

The tableau shifts, becoming the raucous women at play, testing, Snooky thinks, the boundaries of their extraordinary love, tempering it, like she remembers the process to strengthen steel, by adding heat. Onto the edge of the bed, her Nellie is arranged, legs spread--her vagina an open book, bound in bushy blond hair. Snooky stares bewitched by the beauty of her Auntie even in this clinical pose. She remembers the stirrups of her last gynecological visit--yuck, but here in the soft light, among her Janie and her Irmy, Nellie is a queen, her throne the soft bed, being served by her hand maidens.

Irma knells in front of Nellie, blocking Snooky's view. Janie knells beside Irma her arms resting possessively (am I being jealous, Snooky wonders) on Nellie's leg. The banter begins. (Intuitively, Snooky realizes it is almost like they're afraid of being too serious with each other--as though the magic spell might be broken.)

Irma: "Snip! Snip! Miss Puss, goodbye pretty playground."

Janie, rubbing Irma's back: "Don't cry Irmy-the-Wormy, Miss Puss can still come out to play...the better to see you."

Irma snickering, her eyes intent on Janie: "Will Miss Puss shed a tear to welcome the Virgin Lesbian Vamp? Will we find her teeth marks underneath my sweetheart's jungle?"

Janie, her face blushing: "Noo, but..."

Irma, her eyes lively, "Ah, look at our little Rosie, her face aglow...what?"

Janie, "I accidentally made your sweetheart cum, and well...

Nellie, "And I made the virgin cum on purpose and I'm proud of it!" and kisses Irma.

Irma, laughing "So you were sitting around and decided to play 'kiss and cum' in the mall and somehow the virgin misunderstood the rules and made my true love cum?"

Janie, smiling, relieved that Irma isn't mad, "We weren't playing anything, Nellie was just trying on clothes and after she attacked me, I...just...got carried away. We were in that big Dillard's changing room and I was innocently minding my own business and she put my hand there and then...it happened. No wonder you were so wet, slut!" she adds, pinching Nellie on her inner thigh.

Irma, "Very daring of you girl virgin or...maybe not a virgin--huh?"

Snooky decides to interrupt, curious about the answer but almost afraid to hear the answer. Into the room she tiptoes, until she kneels just like one of the girls by Janie's side, snuggling close, and holds onto Auntie Nellie's calf--just in case, since she's not sure where Irma's scissors are.

"Hi! You little scamp!" Irma laughs, "Be careful not to startle the stylist, she is armed!"

"That's why I'm holding onto Auntie's leg."

Janie smiles playfully at Snooky, thinking wryly, well this little pussy, is out of the bag: "If you want to watch Aunt Nellie get trimmed, better ask pretty please--she might be a little intimidated sitting like this?" And puts her hand over Snooky's eyes.

Nellie looks at her curious niece and wonders out loud, "What would Dessie want?" Almost on cue, stage left, she has her answer as into the room steps her sister-in-law.

Giggling, Desdemona observes: "So this is what happens at your slumber parties!"

Snooky, blushing furiously, brushes Janie's hand away and explains, "No...I snuck up on them. It's not their fault. I wanted to watch--they're going to trim Aunt Nellie."

"I think Janie is right better ask your Aunt Nellie.--It's OK with me, Sissy, as long as I get to watch, too. I'll be the chaperone!"

Nellie giggles, "OK, just us girls then...don't be traumatized, Snooky."

"Yes, ma'am--my Brazilian training will be our secret, unless I can bring my girlfriends over for a demonstration..." Snooky giggles, dodging a pinch from Nellie and Irma who has put the little comb she was using down (no scissors yet).

"I'm glad your daughter has a sense of humor, Des." Nellie says.

"Yes, she can be a real smart ass when she puts her mind to it." Desdemona says and strokes the back of Snooky's head, letting her arm casually rest on Janie's arm. Snooky notices this telltale affection and smiles. After all that she has secretly heard, her only fear is that her Janie will get scared away by their hidden love, but in Snooky's mind, that is just unnecessary drama. Maybe now is a good time to reveal what she knows and how she supports whatever love will keep her best friend happy.

Irma clears her throat professorially, "Let's begin ladies! We have here a virgin--well not too virgin, sorry Snook--bush desperately in need of trim. I personally like the untamed look, myself. But Miss Vamp and Naughty Nellie have conspired--I wonder how they conspired," here Irma gives Desdemona and Snooky a big fake wink making Desdemona reconsider whether this demonstration might be a little too risqué for her daughter.

"Let's not dwell on how or whether the Dillard's changing room will ever be the same again." Irma goes on causing Snooky to laugh and Janie to blush as she watches the same rosy hue forming on Nellie.

"Irma..." Janie says warningly.

"Yes, love?" Irma bats her eyes innocently.

"Oh, quit!"

"Anyway, a trim is in order: So, first, we fluff the lovely blond hair into little bellows, the better to decide just where to snip." Irma hums contentedly as she combs Nellie's hair. Nellie thinks to herself that this is certainly not a spa, as Irma's knowing touches linger here then there--covert caresses, light little teases that dare Nellie not to get excited.

"Irma," Nellie warns.

"Yes, naughty Nellie?"

"Behave yourself, we have company."

"For dinner...?" says Irma who watches Snooky giggle self-consciously and then joins her, like two girls with a secret crush.

Janie feels the current quicken as Irma continues her now unnecessarily generous fluffing. She glances at Desdemona's whose focus is unwaveringly upon those open inviting legs. Janie is a little worried about Snooky. Yes, she's very mature, but this is just too much... Janie takes her arm off Nellie's leg and takes Snooky's hand, "Let's wait for the movie, Snook. Come on, we'll go to the mall..." But Snooky's focus, like her mother's, is focused on the magical fingers weaving their way, playing in the curly blond hair.

Before Janie knows just how far the situation has gotten out of hand, she can see the excitement wet between Nellie's legs--legs that tremble slightly. Then Irma takes her revenge or perhaps, allowing for some charity, simply gets carried away, as into the wet slit her finger dips and glistening flits, like a wily butterfly, to rest on Janie's surprised lips, now opening, now licking, a new sweet nectar.

Snooky looks at her friend, at the plumb lips and the thin finger, and reaches up and moves the finger to Irma's own mouth. Deflecting Janie's embarrassment, she announces, "I have been a little sneak you'll probably say." And looks at her mother, "I was hiding behind the 'horny' couch when you and Janie were talking." Nellie closes her legs and takes Irma's hand, putting her finger to her lips as Snooky goes on. "I just want to say I am not a lesbian, but if I ever become one, Janie is my true love, so please be nice to her. I think you embarrassed her, Irmy. She told my Mom she wanted to set a good example for me and here you are tempting her and...and me too!" Snooky reaches out and hugs Irma, "I love you Irmy-the-Wormy! Please be nice to Janie. It's hard being a virgin lesbian" and blushing, but holding Irma's eyes defiantly, "or a virgin anything." And then she holds her Mom's hand, and, still watching Irma, and smiles..."it's still okay to tease Janie and me: I think we secretly like being virgins together!" Then she stops, looks at the others uncertainly, surprised at just how far she went in her outburst.

Then Snooky is surrounded by "I'm sorrys" and "come here sweethearts," and the hugs and the kisses and the snuggling, waves of unfailing affection amid self-conscious concern and even some shamefaced grins.

"Please!" Snooky finally says, "I'm fine now--no more fawning. I just wanted to be honest because I felt guilty sneaking around which I won't have to do anymore, I hope. She glances from Janie to her mother hopefully, "Please don't make me leave. Irma will do a nice job trimming naughty Aunt Nellie and I'll be good, too. I'll even make dinner later, maybe Janie can help me?"

Nellie, draped in a sheet decides to forego the trim--more for Irma's sake than her own. She puts her arm around Snooky, "We're proud of your daughter, Desdemona, it takes some nerve to confess her secrets to save Janie, but don't worry Snook--nothing happened to change Miss Virgin Vamp's status--but we'll sure giggle every time we sit on that couch."

Chapter 7: Touch Me Where It Hurts

The tableau changes, the sirens shift. There they are all along the infamous couch, indulgent, leaning on shoulders, a leg draped over another, presenting as fine a line as sleek can be. Irma is looking suspiciously behind the couch, teasing Snooky, "Anyone else back there, Miss Snook? Snooky pulls Irma toward her causing her in her silky robe to slide along the laps of her friends. Her face comes to rest against Snooky's thigh, her shoulders snuggle into Janie's lap, her hips press into the Dessie welcoming legs, and her knees lie across Nellie's lap where idle fingers caress a slender ankle.

Nellie teases Dessie, "Doesn't that feel familiar?" Dessie smiles at Nellie and pats Irma's hip, "Have you been taking good care of my baby?"

"When she lets me," Nellie replies...

Into the tableau a sniffle floats, then a sigh, finally, an exasperated "dammit" followed by a suppressed sob, until the tears flow, becoming a torrent wetting the leg of Snooky's jeans. The sirens stroke their recombinant wonder, the one that embodies a little of them all. For the frisky, she is an inspiration, the one who gets the hot girl and rides off with her on that big black bike, rumbling into the dark lusty night. For the constant lover, she is the romance that kindles, the fire banked in longing fulfilled, the flame masking her indiscretions with an ancient loyalty hidden under a warm heart. For the onlookers who depend upon her to keep the faith between the ones they love, she is an unruly child, a bravado friend, someone oddly trustworthy, despite all indications to the contrary.

"Tell us why you're crying," Janie says her hand stroking Irma's unruly hair, her finger tips meeting Snooky's at the crown of Irma's trembling head.

"I don't deserve you. You are my best friends, my only friends, I don't know how I got here, except maybe by a miracle."

Dessie speaks, "You got here because Roscoe has a kind heart."

"He's Mr. Tough Love, that's for sure," Nellie says.

Jane has never heard how Irma came into their lives, "Tell us how you found our Irma!"

Another sob, and Snooky whispers to Janie, "Irma is very sensitive about being found and about belonging. Pretty soon I'll have to wring out these jeans."

From Irma a sniffle turns into a giggle, and she turns to look at Janie, her eyes red-rimmed, her nose wet and snotty. Janie hands her a tissue. "Eww, you snotty thing," she giggles, an infectious giggle that ripples along the couch until it returns to Irma, who sniffles, "Thanks, I guess!"

"Once upon a time, in the alley behind the bakery, Roscoe found a drunken slut curled up in a ball, leaning on the door, drooling." Dessie says.

"Quit exaggerating," Nellie says, "although she was puke-covered, you can't be puke-covered and a slut, well at least not an attractive one."

Snooky pats Irma's shoulder, "I'll tell your story to Janie, since some people are not taking it very seriously."

"It's pretty close to the truth," Irma says, "I was in bad shape. Plus I stunk."

"That's probably why Roscoe threw the bucket of soapy dish water all over you."

"She looked like a drowned cat."

"We're lucky she didn't run away, we would have missed our pussy..." Dessie says and blushes when she sees Snooky smirk.

"Roscoe told me, 'It'll only hurt a little!' before he drenched me. Then he gave me a fresh uniform and a towel. He helped me up and showed me where to change. The thing is, he didn't judge me, he just naturally reached out and helped me." Irma says.

"Roscoe asked me to help the new girl change," Snooky says, "I didn't know we had a new girl. But I thought it would be fun to have someone to talk to. I knocked on the door and there you were naked and wet, your hair was all straggly with stuff matted on it. I was shocked, you were the first woman I saw naked besides my Mom."

"No wonder you'll never be a lesbian," Irma snickers, "I looked horrible."

"You looked helpless." Snooky says,

"You brought me some coffee." Irma says, "I thought that was sweet."

"You were shivering. Then I ran up to the attic to get Nellie."

"You still came back."

"I had too. Dad couldn't take care of you, being naked and all. I got more towels and another bucket of soapy water."

"I was worried when I saw that bucket." Irma laughs.

"We finally brought you up to the attic to the bath tub. We smuggled you up the stairs wrapped in a towel."

"It was my first real bath in two weeks."

"Out of the black water, we found this beautiful water lily," Nellie says fondly, her hand stroking Irma's flank.

"I think you took extra long washing certain parts, Nellie."

"Did I? After a few rinses, you were like a hidden treasure..."

"We both washed you. I did your smelly feet. But Nellie didn't take advantage...you were just very, very dirty."

"I was homeless..." a sniffle.

"Shush, now you're not."

Janie asks, "You went to work that first day?"

"I had too. Roscoe gave me a sandwich when I came down dressed like a baker in whites and led me to the sink, 'We work to eat. Let's see what you can do with these pans,' he told me, just like I belonged there.

"If you cry again, I'll pinch you." Dessie says. "I remember when I saw you that first day. You were pale and washed out. I couldn't stop looking at you. At first I was jealous--and wondered whether I had to worry about Roscoe. I kept hanging around, until you looked at me. Remember what you said, love?"

"Hmm..."

"You said, 'It's not Roscoe you need to worry about.' That's when I knew, when I got that feeling you know where."

"Where's that, Mom!"

"Smart ass!" Desdemona says, and pauses, remembering, smiling, her smile like the Mona Lisa, "Irma looked so helpless until you looked closely. Or, I guess, until she looked closely..."

"Janie, I was such a mess. I was drugged and sexed and drunked out, I had no place to go, I thought there might be some leftovers in the garbage bin in the back of the bakery. Then I must have tripped and I curled up, waiting to die--as melodramatic as that might sound. I just wanted to stop. Roscoe and the bakery saved me."

"Me, too." Janie whispers in Irma's ear. "Me, too."

"I'm so happy I found you all." Irma says looking at her friends, holding her, knowing they are making her feel at home after being embarrassed by going a little too far in front of Snooky. More sniffles, this time from the sirens, friends in warm bodies shifting this way and that, hands stroking, adding their warmth to their Irma, together in the warm and cozy attic, mellow on the horny couch, up the back stairs above the Bella Rosa Bakery.

Chapter 8: Love Is the Sauce that Simmers

In the Bella Rosa Bakery, the sirens swirl, a cozy cosmos, starry and delicious, their bangs curling from the hotness of the ovens, a milky way of rising steam from hissing machines and hot drinks, served with radiant smiles. What order here where angels play, where girlish flirts blossom into womanly heat, where love is misty in the air, a hazy this and that, a comfort taken here and there, the stroke of warmth, that passion makes, like cookies baked, hot from the hearth?

In fond, awkward misdirection, Janie and Snooky are secretly plotting. Snooky wants to live in the attic to be near Janie, her sweet, growing temptation. Janie wants Irma and Desdemona and Nellie to play together again, to make the attic their love nest, their refuge. Snooky knows this because Janie is her best friend and hides almost nothing from her. Snooky also knows that soon she will have to tell Janie the plain truth about what she wants, that a love nest with a her mom moaning in ecstasy just around the corner from their own bed just won't do.

Meanwhile, competing plans are hatched. The girls are going to cook their favorite foods, perfect their best recipes, set the bakery alight with candles, and there, among the glimmers and the scents of piquant sauces, let their plans simmer. Set the big round table back by the ovens, put the 'closed' sign on the green door, and make ready for their grand meal: Nellie and Irma will dine with Roscoe and Desdemona and Janie and Snooky will cook the dinner and serve their happy, unsuspecting family.

Roscoe is aware of a certain frisson in the air, of plans about which he has no distinct knowledge, the unknown making him wary. Soon his Snooky, the darling of his heart will graduate from high school and move away. Somehow he would like to protect her, to make a path--bread crumbs in the forest, fresh from the bakery--where she can find home through whatever storms these next adventurous years might bring.

Desdemona watches her daughter flower; her bloom all the more radiant under the redheaded sun of her best friend, the dear Miss Janie of her mother's secret heart, where yearning love waits unfulfilled--Janie's amazing abstinence keeping Desdemona in sweet disarray these many months.

Nellie knows the equation, the ones and twos and threes, that are the sum of her contentment. She knows the subtle arrangement, a diplomatic immunity Janie has forged between her bedmates, Dessie and Irma. She understands the sweetness of Janie's intention, her scheme to accommodate the yearning for Desdemona in the embraces of Irma and Nellie.

Irma smiles and smiles: Clever Rosie, her blush betrays her, how she schemes to cause the three of them to sleep together, to be her arm's length lovers. Irma knows what Janie is doing, what her Rosie's blushing intentions are, but she isn't as sure about Snooky. Like Roscoe, she wants her to be free but protected--she wants her not to fall like Irma herself did to the temptations of sex and drugs and alcohol that taken together are often the bane of success in college.

Snooky sighs. They love me so. I can see the shadows of worry, of their anticipation to somehow protect me from whatever it is they fear for themselves--as if they were suddenly set free and allowed to fly any which way they wished. I know the love, the love that I cherish, of what Janie calls the warm and cozy bakery, of my Janie and my Nellie and my Irma, of my mom and my dad, of the way we fit together: Like my secret Janie that love sustains me.

Cornish hens roast with legs of lamb, fresh ciabatta cools fresh from the oven, together a tantalizing aroma fueling the hunger of the guests now seated at the big round table, casual and relaxed, their wine glasses filled with mellow reds, amid canapés of delightful surprises wrapped in prosciutto, beside marinades where delicate olives and freshly made cheeses swim in ramekins surrounded by exotic dipping sauces. The rich roasted meat is placed on the table where it will mellow and tempt their guests before it is cut.

Desdemona dressed in medium high fashion voluptuously fills a form fitting dress with a stylish line from a cleverly named store that could advertise in Vogue. Nellie is Target all the way but her smart choices conceal the origin of her fashion. And Irma. Well, Irma is punk and rock and all those vibrations humming together in a sexy attractiveness no self-respecting eye can avoid. Then there are the twins: Janie and Snooky, the red and the blond, the young and the younger, sisters of the apron, with matching hair styles and the choice use of wide belts to offer contrasting colors "so that you can tell your servers apart" they giggle, avoiding the random pinch from their more aggressive guests.

Here we are together, dining in the wonder of each other in the Bella Rosa Bakery, oven-warmed, candles flickering, sips of wine mellowing, so that now the table blossoms in conversation. The servers are their own guests, and sparkling eyes glance about, delight in the promise of humor and surprise and sometimes chagrin, of the preposterous and the prim, of what they are together, so strange a fine confection of the human spirit, striving without judgement alive only to its own purpose, as a flower is alive to the sun, nameless in its growth, unaccountable in its beauty.

Roscoe: "Two weeks to go, huh Snook!"

Snooky: "Two weeks of fun..."

Roscoe: "Any acceptance letters yet?"

Snooky: "It's too early--I hope."

Roscoe: "Hmm."

Nellie: "So you're going to go far away and leave your Auntie to put up with Miss Perfectionist, Cookie Queen of the Bakery."

Janie: "Quit--I'm not the cookie queen of anything. And I'm not picky either!"

Amid the laugher that erupts from the table, Snooky puts her arm around her friend and smiles, "You might be..." she hesitates before tickling Janie savagely "...just a little bit picky!"

Irma: "Remember when Janie made me throw out that big batch of dough that Roscoe rescued like a flying trapeze performer catching it before it hit the can?"

Dessie: "For weeks we called him 'the Flying Roscoe' and anybody who is picky the 'Queen Jane.'" Dessie, smiling at Roscoe, strokes Janie's arm, "We think you need a lover--the harmony of the bakery depends on it."

Janie blushing: "Sometimes...sometimes I get a little distracted but that has nothing to do with my sex life."

Laughter and gigles, Nellie: "What sex life, Miss Virgin Lesbian?"

Snooky: "Leave Janie alone, she's being a good example for me.--Isn't that right, Mom?"

Dessie: "Yes, my little snoop. I must say she has tremendous will power."

Roscoe: "It's cool to have best friends with tremendous will power, unlike some people I know." And kisses Dessie.

Dessie: "I have some will power...well at least among friends."

More laughter, Irma: "When was that, a few years ago!"

Nellie, watching Janie laying her head on Snooky's shoulder: "Snooky can always come back to the bakery to keep up her skills, we can't have the Princess of Cookies fail her queen."

Roscoe, suspiciously changing the subject: "This roast is great, the juices and the caramelized skin are a gourmet treat. We've always wanted to expand our menu and serve a first class lunch and dinner menu."

Dessie, picking up the thread, her eyes twinkling: "The store next door is going to be vacant soon, maybe we should expand."

Irma, a coconspirator: "A Roman arch between the bakery and the bistro."

Nellie: "A B&B, the Bella Rosa Bakery and Bistro."

Irma: "Yum, yum...wonder where we could find the talent for a first class bistro."

Roscoe: "Probably need some culinary training. They'd have to really love to cook. Imagine the twins, putting on a spread like this for paying customers."

Janie and Snooky, alert: "It would be fun for people to have a really great place to eat in town." Janie says, looking at Snooky. "And think of all the neat foods we could work with, and we could still make dreamy deserts."

Roscoe, smiling: "We would need a dedicated chef or chefs..."

Dessie: "Trained chefs."

Snooky: "I guess."

Irma: "Trained chefs are hard to find...especially in little Durbin."

Roscoe: "We could grow our own."

Snooky and Janie, watching Irma and Roscoe smiling and Nellie and Dessie holding hands. They look at each other and decide to risk it: "We could learn!"

Roscoe: "Lots of hard work and dedication, Snooky. You might be tied down to a job when you should be away in college partying and..."

Irma: "Isn't their a culinary school somewhere in this state?"

Dessie: "Lot's of hard work but the training would give someone a skill--what'd they call that the other day of TV, 'a portable skill,' something you could take with you anywhere you went later in life."

Nellie: "Or next door."

Roscoe: "Chefs need to be very picky."

Irma: "Yeah, they could be trained by Janie in the fine points."

Snooky: "Janie is a great teacher."

Janie: "You are my best student...and I hope I haven't been too hard on you--all of you. I'm sorry if I've been hard to get along with lately."

Dessie: "You're going to miss your best friend when she goes to school."

Janie, a tear and a sigh: "Yes."

Roscoe: "In that case, these should come in handy," and takes two envelops from his inside pocket.

Irma: "Two white envelops..."

Nellie: "What's that colorful return address? It looks like a flaming pear.

Dessie: "Isn't that the logo of the Masterson Culinary School in Boston?"

Roscoe: "The big city..." fingering the envelops, watching Snooky and Janie keenly eyeing them, their future suspended in the air, and then they know, as Roscoe finally adds. "...is not a place for my daughter to go alone."

Irma: "She needs a chaperone. I'll volunteer!"

Dessie, laughing: "Right! Good idea!"

Nellie, wanting to prolong the suspense: "Irma would be a good chaperone. She would know exactly what to avoid."

Roscoe: "But a good friend would be better...chefs need to work together!"

Janie and Snooky are holding hands, looking in wonder at the smiling faces that surround them, eager to share their surprise. Dessie tells Roscoe, "Don't keep them in suspense!"

Roscoe, handing an envelop the Snooky and Janie: You don't know my friend Joe Masterson, but he knows you and has agreed to provide a scholarship to both of you for their two year master chef program. The only stipulation is that you need to teach a cookie baking and decorating segment at the school. Remember the white haired gentleman that talked to you for so long a few months ago?"

Janie: "He was very interested in the cookies so we demonstrated a few techniques for him."

Snooky: "He asked a lot of tough questions. Janie and I were maybe a little too playful with our answers because we liked him and he was so interesting."

Roscoe: "Joe enjoyed your performance. He said it was the highlight of his trip. The scholarship isn't free--you have to teach, he likes the idea of you running a segment together, a course each semester. In return he will give you a room to share in the dorm."

Janie and Snooky, more tears and hugs: "Our own room at the culinary school!"

Dessie: "He'll also keep an eye on you for Roscoe and I."

Irma: "If you misbehave we'll just have to go to Boston..."

Nellie: "...and rescue you."

While this is the end of Part 1, the adventure continues for the girls when they leave the bakery for the big city. Will best friends make great lovers or simply good room mates? Will love flourish in the culinary school amid the temptations of lissome chefs, male and female? Will Nellie and Irma rescue the girls or dance with them in the revelry of big city temptations? I'd sure like your comments before starting Part 2 :)