Was it the incomprehensible accent or her really big boobs? Kelly meets a curious woman who asks pointed questions.
There are other stories about Kelly, but each one can be read independently. Please read those too if you enjoy this one. I have started writing a couple of others and will post them, should readers continue to like reading about her experiences. There was some fun stuff that happened before the end of school and over the summer already.
If you want to read the posted ones in chronological order, start with “A Party at Jeni’s, then read “What is There to Do”, “Dinner for Three”, “Kelly and Lindsay Alone Together”, and “Study Break”. I have a couple of other stories up that aren’t about Kelly.
Sometime in April, the first year
“You are homozexual,” Yana said. It was not a question, it was a description. “Everyone is knowing zis hat school. I myzev am zeeing you kezzing your churlfrend ven she vas dropping you off here.”
I am not homosexual. Not that it was any of her business one way or the other. I had known this girl all of 15 minutes, and it was rather a forward statement for her to make. Still, as she seemed to think she knew so much about me, I gave her an answer. “I’m bi,” I said. “We have a boyfriend.”
Her blue eyes shot up. “A dreesum. Oh, how darink huff hugh.” Her voice was barely audible, not a whisper, but low. We were not being overheard.
I couldn’t be at all sure what she was saying, if it was a compliment or a condemnation. Her accent made it hard to tell.
“I av neber bean putting my tung in anudder voman for zexual porpoises.”
“What?” I asked softly. Between the low tone of her voice and her accent, I had no idea what she had said.
I made a clueless face to show her I didn’t understand. She raised her hand, the first two fingers forming a V, then turned it to her face and stuck her tongue between them and wriggled it. “Coonilhingas.”
“You like it?” What the heck was this girl talking about?
“Ob corse. Only I am neber doing it to a vooman.”
Ah, I understood finally. She was telling me she wasn’t gay. I rolled over and tried to sit up, but her leg was still on top of me. Bob, the photographer called to me to hold the pose as he adjusted the lights and reset the focus, so I lay back down.
So, what was I doing with another naked woman with her leg draped over me being quietly questioned about my sexuality?
Needing money to finish the term, I had offered myself as a figure model for the art department. I knew there was a chance that I would run into a fellow student or two, but I figured I could handle it. A recommendation from the life drawing professor had led to this session with a local photographer, posing with another model. The photographer had assured us both individually that posing together was not going to be in the least sexual, he just wanted to work with two subjects and he liked the contrast between our figures. Meaning, tactfully, I suppose, that she had one and I did not.
So, there we were. His studio was a detached building behind his house. It was quite professional, and he had an assistant, another woman, there to help out. Yana and I had been shown to separate changing rooms where we left our clothes and came out in our birthday suits. Interestingly, neither of us had bothered with the robes provided.
“Hugh av been vit many churls?” Yana was saying, probing.
“No, not many,” I told her. Six or so sn’t many.
“I vood tink it cats booring vidout…” Yana seemed to struggle for the right word. She curled her fingers into a circle and pushed two fingers of her other hand through them.
“Yuss. A gock.” She nodded. “Being bisexual, hugh are hexited being with me den, beguz I ham peautiful and here naked wit hugh.”
Well, yes, she was beautiful and naked, no question about that: a little shorter than I, with luxurious brown hair that fell past her shoulders and very large breasts, a thin waist, and shapely, comely hips. Modest about it too, it seemed. Her skin was so soft where she brushed her body on mine. And we were so close I smelled the soap she’d bathed with that morning, but also the scent of her, of Yana. I wasn’t getting a wet-on for her though. I was being ultra professional, as a good model should be. She was gorgeous, and soft, and sweet smelling however.
“Yana, you are very pretty.” I assured her, “but just because we are naked together doesn’t mean I am attracted to you. This is just a job. I am in a relationship.” There had to be a lot more arguments in my favor for why she didn’t turn me on, but I was having a hard time thinking of any.
She laughed. “But hugh like me. Hugh vould like to vuk with me.”
The photographer called for us to hold our pose as he snapped the shutter. I had thought that posing might give me insights into being a photographic artist in my own right, but so far it izmir escort was mostly just a lot of lying around naked while he and his assistant worked. I liked what he was doing with the lights however. I would have to see if I could rig up something similar as practice on my own.
“Yes, I like you, Yana. Why? Are you coming on to me?” Well? Was she?
“No, I ham not into churls,” she answered, having the tact of a doorknob. “But berhabs I could vuk hyour poyfrindt, za geetar blayer, while vatching you wit hyour churlfrindt..”
And just how did this big-boobed, freshman, Slovakian international student know I had a guitar playing boyfriend all of a sudden? And just what made her think I would agree to let her “vuk” Tom while she watched me having sex with Lindsay? It made her earlier question about my orientation quite suspect. She knew about Lindsay, and now she seemed to know about Tom. Was our relationship really being discussed around the school, or was that just something she had said? Or was she just another of the girls who had seen Tom playing in one of the bars and thought she wanted to sleep with him because he was so sensitive and insightful. (He isn’t. It is just the songs.) Maybe she was just a voyeur who wanted to watch two women making love. Or an exhibitionist. She certainly wasn’t shy.
And, okay, so the idea did make me a little excited. We three hadn’t talked about that sort of thing at all. I didn’t even know if we were all being faithful to each other or not. What would Tom and Lindsay say if I brought home another woman for sex? Tom? Well, not a big question there, really. I mean, one look at Yana and he would be out of his pants. Lindsay? We had met at an orgy, after all. Yana’s suggestion was not totally out of the realm of possibility. I wasn’t at all sure of my own feelings. It was hard enough, still, to see Tom and Lindsay fucking. How would I feel about watching him with Yana? I felt a twinge between my legs. When I found myself actually considering it, I had to shake my head to clear such wicked thoughts away.
“No leaking,” she empahised.
“Leaking.” She wriggled her tongue through her fingers again, and got scolded by the photographer for breaking pose.
I nodded. “Licking,” I corrected.
“Legging,” she tried again.
“No, no licking, never. Not if you are not into girls. Even if having me go down on you would be the most exciting sexual experience of your life. No. I just would not be right if you were not attracted to me as well.” I was laughing to myself, but keeping a straight face for her. I wasn’t sure I was even so great at it. I liked licking, and did my best for Lindsay.
“Vy, har hugh so good?”
“Why, are you so interested?” I mean, come on! Would she have even raised the issue if she wasn’t? Granted, she was totally socially inept, but boorishness excuses only so much. How often to you ask a stranger about his or her sex life within 15 minutes of meeting even you are both naked? Was she just interested in a detached sort of way, kind of fascinated with the concept of girl sex if not the act? Best thing to do was call her bluff. Right?
“Hugh har ketting vet. I feel hugh on my leg.”
“Okay, Yana, yes, you are the second most beautiful woman I have ever lain around with naked. Physically you are supremely alluring and appealing. If I were not in a relationship, I might seriously consider asking you out, even if you don’t like girls. Despite being a complete dunderhead, I think you might actually be fun to spend time with. Of course, it could just be that you are so attractive and I am simply a product of my breast obsessed society.” I wondered if she could smell how wet she was making me. Would a straight girl know that smell?
Yana stared at me, her blue eyes wet and questioning. “Only zecond most?”
What an ego! I went on, even as we shifted poses so that I was standing and she was curled at my feet, head down, as I bent and I touched her hair. “I can easily picture you tied to my bed, your luscious legs spread wide, your arms over your head. Mmmm, your pussy would be so, so wet. I would use my lips and tongue on you, and my fingers, kissing, nipping, rolling my tongue over you, taking you to orgasm after orgasm.” Hmmm, was I just calling her bluff, or had I fallen into flirting with her?
“Quiet,” Bob called. “I’m ready to shoot again.” I straightened and arched my back to thrust out my boobs, more or less, cocked a leg a tad more open, and froze. “Yana,” he kind of coughed, almost embarrassed, “could you do something to make your nipples stand up?”
Like imagine sexual scenarios with me? My own nipples were standing right up from thinking about her! “You might see about getting some ice,” I suggested. And, if art demanded it, I could suck Yana’s nipples to make them stiff for her. Better than ice, you know.
The assistant appeared from the lab with ice cubes in a ziplock bag which she could dab to us as needed. I liked my idea better.
Bob directed us through alsancak escort the next serious of poses, his assistant attentive, arranging our hair, arms, legs, hip thrusts and leg extensions, dabbing nipples as called for. Yana had a lot of time to think about what I had said. Of course, I had only just suggested binding her to my bed to get to her. I was more of a tie-me-up kind of girl than a tier-upper. We must have held a dozen poses before the photographer called a rest.
Yana was back on it immediately. “Har hugh zerious?”
I nodded almost as if I had forgotten I had just suggested tying her up and making love to her by then. “Yes, absolutely serious,” picturing her bound.
Her pretty face fell, crushed. “Only zecond most peutiful?”
I nodded, grinning widely, both at myself for misreading her question and her incredible self-image. Apparently she had never seen Jeni. “Yes.”
“Che mudst pee a go-dess.”
“She is,” I said simply. “An absolute goddess.” I kind of have a crush on Jeni. She was my first, and all. Would I throw over Lindsay and Tom for her? Well…
Bob, the photographer, told us we were finished about then. I uncurled myself from Yana and hurried to the dressing room and into my clothes again. The whole thing was becoming slightly uncomfortable for me, in spite of my own teasing. The touch of her skin on mine, while we were not overtly sexually posed together, had gotten to me. With no hair between my legs, I was concerned that my arousal would be obvious to Bob and his assistant. Would they catch my scent?
After I had dressed (and blotted dry a bit) and was preparing to leave, Bob drew me aside. “Kelly,” he apologized, “I am really sorry about Yana coming on to you.”
I must have given him a deer-in-the-headlights look. He’d known what we were talking about? I was so embarrassed.
“I saw her rather blatant hand gestures,” Bob went on. He raised two fingers, almost to his mouth in imitation of her. Bob is an older guy, so it looked especially cute when he did it. I had to fight myself not to laugh. He looked so funny. “When I hire models to work together, I expect them to be professional, no matter what their sexual preferences may be. Sometimes, a girl like Yana will come along and use the modeling session as a chance to hit on the other models. I hope she did not offend you. I would like to work with you again.”
I tried not to laugh again. Yana hadn’t actually hit on me, and I was the one who liked to have sex with women, after all.
“It was nothing, really,” I told him. “Please, do call me for more work.” He handed me an envelope with my fee. “And I don’t mind working with Yana. She’s sweet.”
Yana came out of the dressing room looking stunning in a snug blue turtleneck and jeans. Unlike me, she was wearing a bra, and it lifted her boobs under that sweater spectacularly. I slipped into my coat and left. I was just turning onto the street, preparing to walk home, when I heard her behind me, scurrying in her heels to catch up.
“Gelly,” she said, slipping an arm through mine, “Hinvite me to go home wiz hugh. I like hugh. I vould like to meet hyour churlfrindt and poyfrindt.”
I didn’t mind her taking my arm, but I didn’t return the affection. This was my first time dealing with another woman like this. Was she just curious or was she interested? And if she was interested, what the heck was I going to do about it?
“We don’t live together,” I told her. “Lindsay and I are in dorms. Tom shares a house with another guy in town.”
“Oh, anudder man too? Hugh really har darink.”
I shook my head. “Not that daring. He doesn’t get involved.”
She seemed disappointed. We walked for awhile before she spoke “Gelly,” she said softly, “I ham not darink either. I hab not bean vukking since coming to Hamerica.”
I stopped walking. I could feel her boob on my arm where she held me. “You’re kidding.”
She shook her head and her dark hair flounced. “Hamerican poys are not happroachink me. I ham scarink them, I think. And holder men har vanting me to be brostitute. Hoffering me money. I could ab stayed in Slovakia to be brostitute.”
For a moment, she looked really young. And vulnerable. And lonesome. Very lonesome and utterly gorgeous. Boys her age would be reluctant to approach her. And anyone older… well, she wasn’t the only pretty girl ever to be offered the chance to capitalize on her looks.
“And girls don’t like you at all, do they?”
She shook her head again. Why would they? She was amazing looking and as rude as could be, and you couldn’t understand her about half the time. Too much work to be her friend. I kind of liked her though. Was it only because she flirted with me?
“Okay, Yana. Why don’t we go see the movie at the Union? And just hang out. We’ll get dinner.” I checked my watch. Lindsay would be starting practice about then. Tom was supposed to be doing research all night.
Her face brightened and she swung in next to me once more, the weight buca escort of her breast incredibly present on my arm as she held on to me. Her heels made us the same height.
Yana didn’t seem the least bit disturbed to be strolling down the street with her arm in mine. It was something of a distance from Bob’s house to north end of campus, where the theatre is. The walk was nice, her arm through mine, her big breast brushing to me with each step. We talked animatedly, and I found myself liking Yana more and more. I was understanding her better all the time and hardly ever had to say, “What?” so often. She was funny and bright.
We ate at the dinning hall in The Union. Sitting on opposite sides of the table, she didn’t have much chance to touch me, but we talked a lot, even exchanging phone numbers. She made me laugh. After putting our trays away, we moved over to the theatre which was showing an old French movie that was kind of racy for its time, but now looks quite tame. Brigit Bardot was in it, briefly nude, but her being undraped was quite scandalous for the time. Ironic that Yana and I had been more nude, more displayed, all afternoon, and doing so was hardly a big deal. Well, kind of a big deal, but not the way it had been for old Brigit. I wasn’t sure what my mother would say about my being a nude model. I was going to have to tell her. Right after confessing that I had a girlfriend.
Yana and I found seats in the middle of the theatre, plopping our bags and coats down into the seats on either side of us as we sat next to one another. The theatre was a converted auditorium, and the seats were old and lumpy. There weren’t very many people attending the showing, and few were sitting near us. Yana was on my left then. Maybe it was a European thing, but she kept touching me until I finally took her hand in mine and held it to keep her still. Kind of like being on a first date with a boy, except of course, we weren’t on a date, and Yana was no boy, and she didn’t want to have sex with another girl.
Yana speaks French, so she could follow the movie without reading the subtitles, but I had to pay close attention to catch what was going on. Brigit was apparently being accused of being a slut for running around naked. Yana laid her head on my shoulder as Brigit put on her clothes from the line where the laundry was hung. We sat and watched, holding hands, her head on my shoulder. Then her left hand crept across my chest and into my shirt.
“Just what are you doing?” I asked, eyes wide, her actions surprising me as she unbuttoned my shirt to be able to get her hand in. Her fingers were swift and sure.
“I ab neber touched annuder vooman’s prest,” she said simply and touched mine. Her fingers curled delicately around my right boob under my shirt, my nipple standing right up as she did. “Zee? Hugh like hit.”
Yes. I did like it. I love having my breasts touched. Always have. That didn’t mean I should just sit there and let her feel me up in the theatre.
But I did. Yana seemed so innocent in her interest in me. And we were becoming friends. If she wanted to lay her hand on my naked breast, what was the harm in it?
Holding my boob seemed to calm her down. Her fingers moved only occasionally, and once or twice she scraped my soft skin with her nails, but I quite liked that. I felt so warm and comfortable with her hand there inside of my shirt. I smelled her again, her hair right there under my chin as she rested her head on my shoulder. I relaxed and enjoyed the movie and her touch.
We blinked as the lights came up at the end of the film and Yana slipped her hand from my shirt. It was much cooler outside, and we both zipped up our coats as we began the walk from the Union toward the dorms. Yana was in one of the newer ones on the south end of campus, like most freshmen, but I was in an older, more fashionable building across from the Union. I could have just said goodnight and gone home, but I was afraid to ask her into my room just then, and I didn’t want to leave her just yet either. Lindsay was out of practice by then, so I decided to go see her and walk Yana home first. Something about Yana made me maternal, maybe. I was older, more experienced, wiser. American. I licked girls and all. I gave her my arm again and told her I would see her home. She smiled, her startling blue eyes sparkling, and off we went.
At the entrance of her dormitory, I drew my arm from hers and leaned over to kiss her lightly on the cheek. Her eyes widened before she kissed mine. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Yana.”
“Thang hugh, Gelly.” She squeezed my hand and flounced into the building.
Lindsay lived in the sports dorm, between Yana’s and my own, and I hurried there as fast as my long legs would take me. I was anxious to see my lover. I flew up the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator and was soon knocking on her door.
Lindsay was there with two other volleyball players: her roommate, Cora, and another girl, Teresa. She opened the door a minute or so after I knocked wearing just her sports bra and practice shorts. I flowed into her arms and kissed her deeply, hugging her and wanting her. The other girls were a couple themselves, so our embrace did not startle them. They knew Lindsay was dating me. Still, I seemed to embarrass her with my overt affection. She looked flushed.