LITMIR.BIZ

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surnames.’

      The faux pas was reflected in a fun house mirror of other transgressions I’d make until finally mastering a labyrinth of office etiquette rules.

      Of course this superior was the object of relentless fantasies. She wasn’t a woman I wanted to have sex with but she loomed large in an imagination that would not be quashed.

      If Ms. Swanson knew how I climaxed to images of her working as a spandex-clad dominatrix, spanking bosomy secretaries prone to coffee spills and typos, she would have sent me manacled and defeated to Alcatraz for sure.

      Funny how movies filmed in San Francisco never focus on the working class. All the shots would have to be black and white and everyone would look the same because working stiffs all shop at the same thrift stores. Since I didn’t come from a rich family, I had to experience glamour obliquely. Let my body be my passport.

      ***

      When Bella surprised me with a phone call, I was more than ready for another adventure.

      ‘Hi, hot chick,’ she said, by way of greeting. ‘You forgot to tell me where you’ve been all my life.’

      ‘Ha. I moved here from Florida. Had to work a lot of jobs before I could save up to come here, the Promised Land.’ Florida! For all the sweet manna in heaven I would never go back to that state. I keep hoping the bugs will carry it off so the alligators can cavort without the constant threat of human malice.

      ‘Hmm. Well, I’m calling to invite you to a party tomorrow. In fact, let’s make a day of it. I’ll take you to lunch, we’ll do a little sightseeing and then it’s off to Twin Peaks for a good time in the hills. Sound doable?’

      I scratched my chin. ‘As luck would have it, I’m only working in the morning tomorrow. Our office is shutting down for some asbestos cleaning. Only … I don’t have any Kim Novak outfits to wear to a gala in the Peaks.’

      ‘You really are a femme! We’ll go shopping tomorrow. Ashley, hon, I’m going to show you the real San Francisco and you’re going to like it very much.’

      I had no doubt about that.

      ***

      First we went to Fisherman’s Wharf for some whiskey crab soup. Next stop: Ghirardelli Square to gorge on hot-fudge sundaes.

      There was a boutique that seemed custom-made for wayward blondes travelling with well-heeled lesbian friends on their way to a party in the hills. Bella picked out and purchased a pair of Capri pants along with an embroidered madras shirt.

      ‘Voilà!’ my new friend said, handing over the glossy embossed bags. ‘Instant, appropriate, soirée attire.’

      When Bella took me by the hand and dragged me into the Wax Museum, I said, ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’

      ‘C’mon. It’ll be fun. It’s probably deserted on a weekday.’

      ‘All the more reason not to be trapped in the Chamber of Horrors.’

      Who would have thought a wax museum would be the best place in the city to make out? As I shuddered at the Titanic display, Bella slipped her warm palms under my shirt and cupped my breasts, grazing each nipple with her thumbs.

      We didn’t last long in the Bloody Chamber. Every time I shrieked, she covered my mouth with her sensual lips. After making out in every room, we left the dark strange world for the promise held by the rest of the day.

      ‘You left your bike at home,’ I said, stating the obvious when she opened her car door for me. A shiny new BMW.

      ‘What do you do for a living, Bella?’

      She checked her rearview mirror before backing out into traffic. ‘I’m a bartender.’

      ‘No, seriously.’

      Giving me a sideways glance, she said, ‘Seriously. This car was a gift from my aunt.’

      OK. So I was on my way to a bash with a woman who trussed her boobs and was possibly mafia connected. Welcome to my world.

      ***

      An elegant woman wearing a white silk tank over perfectly tan skin answered the door. She ushered us past the tiled foyer into the main living room where women were huddled in pairs and groups. I was instantly aroused before checking my naughty thoughts at the door. Bella could unspool the very threads off my back, leaving me naked and hitching a ride if I so much as ogled another woman’s décolletage.

      Was she the jealous type? I had no idea. Much as I had enjoyed our day, I still didn’t know this woman who held me in such carnal thrall.

      A margarita was placed in my hand and then another. Someone had told Mira, the hostess, margaritas were my downfall. I tried to figure what kind of soirée this was even as the tequila coated my palate and curled my tongue most pleasantly.

      I was led to an outdoor patio where several women were entwined in a sunken L-shaped pool. The view of the San Bruno Mountains couldn’t compete with so much exposed womanly flesh. The pool’s water was crystal clear. I could see hands touching genitals. One woman with bright-red hair arched her back and played with her own vagina.

      Mira produced a scarf from a pocket of her linen shorts. She bent down and blindfolded the contorted woman.

      ‘Now, someone be nice and play with Tina.’

      Mira looked from me to Bella expectantly, but we stood frozen in place. The golden-haired goddess shrugged and took off her clothes. She had no tan lines and I could just see her spending day after idle day frolicking at nude beaches.

      The woman named Tina was lifted by her underarms out of the pool. Still wearing the blindfold, she gasped with pleasure as Mira’s face disappeared between her inner thighs.

      I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I had heard of live sex shows but assumed they were relegated to sleazy men’s clubs and the sex industry’s equivalent of the vaudeville circuit. Bella relaxed her hand on my shoulder as if we were casually watching fireworks.

      Two others joined the scene. They had been drinking in the living room but were now both naked. A petite woman with sleek, long black hair curled like a shrimp into the supine love interest now cresting toward orgasm. A short, muscular blonde took the other side, bookending the blindfolded woman as they tweaked her nipples and caressed her belly.

      It was too much. I grabbed Bella’s hand and told her I wanted to go home. No sooner had I shut the car door though, I realised my panties were as wet as if they’d been dropped into the pool.

      Without giving her a chance to resist, I yanked Bella’s arm to my crotch.

      ‘You need to get me off, right now. You got me into this mess.’

      With one pull, my date torqued my panties round her fist. I leaned into the driver’s side and let her fuck me with her fingers. My loins were shaking; I wanted to get fucked so badly. She tilted my torso to achieve better purchase and soon I was coming on her hands, grabbing her shoulders and crying with relief.

      We drove home in silence but she continually reached over and stroked my hair and brow. I desperately wanted to know what she really did for a living but a part of me didn’t want any more knowledge for a while. I looked out the window and this time took in the view of the glorious mountains.

      Bella dropped me off at my North Beach apartment. I politely thanked her for lunch and for the clothes. I never expected to see her again, not that I didn’t want to. She was a mystery; if I could get beneath the gauze of her breast wrap, a story would surely unfold.

      ***

      I ran a bath and let my body disappear beneath a cloud of bubbles. It felt so good to be in my own place with views of kitchen workers dumping garbage and Italian women hanging clothes on wooden pins.

      Bella. Charming, inscrutable Bella. Why did she have to be so beautiful? To picture her was to want to be touched by her. I touched myself instead. I let my fingers glide over

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