The Secret Sex Lives of Wanda Mitty. Felix Baron
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likes to dress up,’ Lucinda boasted.
Does he? Did that mean that he was metrosexual, or simply gay? Was he planning to marry her just to be his ‘beard’?
Kitty, her black hair in a pixie-cut to match her big-eyed pixie-face, also wore a blue blazer, with a mid-thigh white pleated skirt, bobby-socks and deck shoes. They were co-ordinated. She wasn’t. Kitty was showing her legs off. She wasn’t.
With a great effort, Wanda stopped grinding her teeth. She rose into Henry’s warmish embrace and cheek-kiss.
Lucinda made the introductions.
Henry declared that he was famished and suggested they raid the buffet. Good idea. Food would give Wanda something to sink her teeth into, apart from Kitty’s elegant neck.
Henry was right in front of her in the line. He took lots of raw oysters so Wanda did likewise. So did Kitty.
‘Oysters, huh?’ Kitty remarked.
Not sure what the girl meant or was implying, Wanda just nodded.
‘You might want a lemon wedge,’ Kitty prompted her.
‘I was hoping for lime,’ Wanda replied, trumping the reminder but still taking the advice.
Kitty ignored that and said, ‘I was hoping for some tongue. I’m very fond of tongue. How about you, Wanda?’
‘That depends,’ Wanda replied, leaving off the ‘whose tongue’ that had almost sprung to her lips.
‘You’re right. It certainly does depend, on so many things.’ Kitty gave Wanda a brief fluttering wink, which Wanda interpreted as ‘whose tongue’ plus ‘and where it’s licking’.
Perhaps the girl wasn’t such a bad sort, after all. She was more slender than Wanda, which meant she was a bit skinny, of course. It was impossible to tell about her tits, under that blazer and a horizontal striped boat-necked cotton sweater. Wanda suspected that her own were better, or, at least, bigger.
The buffet line started with lobster tails. Wanda chose one that was arched high out of its split shell, like it was struggling to be born. There were a variety of pâtés, herring, shrimp, crab and lobster. Wanda took a serving each of the crab and the lobster. A blob of Russian salad and a few black olives absolved her conscience about taking all the high-cost, high-protein offerings, so she was able to feel fine about the two paper-thin slices of very rare roast beef, with creamed horseradish.
Henry dropped a couple of gigantic butterfly scampi on top of her beef. ‘These are very good,’ he told her.
‘Thank you, Henry.’ She could always skip supper, and breakfast tomorrow. Maybe lunch, as well.
Back at the table, a heaped bread basket plus little pots of dressing and drawn butter had appeared. Kitty shed her blazer and dropped it onto the bench seat beside her, though a waitress whipped it away in less than ten seconds. Her sweater was skin-tight so that Wanda could see that she had cup-cake tits, small but firm and projecting, with obvious nipples. Not bad. The hem of the sweater was cropped and elasticised, leaving a three-inch band of bare tanned skin at her midriff. Neither Lucinda nor Martha, Wanda’s mom, showed any sign of disapproval, whereas, if it had been her dressed like that, she’d have been given a slow verbal roast in hell for it. Perhaps it was because Wanda was ‘spoken’ for and Kitty wasn’t? That’d be some compensation.
Kitty nudged Wanda with her thigh. ‘I’m sure that we are going to become great friends,’ she declared. ‘I can feel it already.’ She rested a warm palm on Wanda’s knee and squeezed.
‘Thank you.’ That was confusing. It isn’t fair when someone you’ve decided to hate comes on all warm and friendly. And ‘comes on’ to boot!
Wanda picked up a small fork and prodded at the lobster meat, not sure how to proceed. Next to her, Kitty simply plucked her tail from its casing with her fingers, dipped it in a sauce and slowly sucked at the pinkish-white meat. There was no doubt in Wanda’s mind. The girl was fellating the firm flesh.
Kitty dipped again. ‘I do love this sauce, don’t you, Wanda?’
‘I’ve tasted better.’
‘Haven’t we all! I wonder if this is a cock or a hen lobster?’
‘Does it make a difference?’ Wanda asked.
‘They’re both good, I’m sure, but I like to know what I’m putting in my mouth, anyway.’
The blatant innuendoes confirmed that Kitty was definitely a naughty girl. Wanda liked that, even if the girl’s freedom to be openly bad made her jealous. Under different circumstances, she and Kitty could have been very good friends. Come to that, she really couldn’t hold Kitty’s past whatever-it-had-been with Henry against her.
Henry had his head back, pouring an oyster into his mouth. His Adam’s apple bobbed. Did oysters evoke the female essence for him as much as lobster tails did the male one for her?
Her mother and Lucinda were looking into each other’s eyes as they too slurped oysters. Oh my God! If that didn’t confirm exactly what Wanda didn’t want confirmed, what would?
So as not to mimic Kitty, Wanda picked her tail up and sank her teeth into it. The sweet meat was resilient enough she could almost fancy it was alive and moving inside her mouth. On her tongue.
This wasn’t a brunch. It was a goddamned food orgy!
Four loud and burly young men brought plates that were pyramided with the buffet’s offerings to the next table. Wanda threw a glance at Kitty to see if she disapproved of the newcomers as much as she did. There was something about the young woman’s profile …
Wanda twisted on her bench seat and looked up at the cartoon. There was a definite likeness between Kitty and the mermaid. And Henry drew. As far as she could see, the picture wasn’t signed, not even with initials. If it had been, and the signature had been ‘Henry Chandler’, or the initials ‘HC’, that would have been very unpleasant.
Henry’s knee touched hers under the table. Was his hand going to follow? Please?
He asked her, ‘Do you ride, Wanda?’
She nodded. Her mother had made sure that she was raised ‘above her station’. Upward mobility had been the theme of her life, imposed by her sole parent. Her mom hadn’t been mistaken though, after all, all being well. From shoe-shop assistant to the wife of a multimillionaire would certainly be an upward move.
‘English saddle, or Western?’
‘Either – both. Not at once.’
He grinned, warming her heart. ‘Funny girl! My negotiations will be finished in a couple of days. I plan to take a few days off to get to know my bride better.’
Did he mean sex? Please, God, let him mean hot sweaty, maybe kinky, sex!
He continued, ‘I thought we could all go out to the ranch, kick back, take it easy, with maybe some riding? You have a quality about you, Wanda, that makes me want to see you in full English riding regalia.’
The men at the next table were laughing raucously.
‘I don’t have …’ she began.
‘No, of course not. Here, take this.’ Henry handed her a business card. Mr Pink, Bespoke Habits. ‘He does boots, as well. I’d like you to go see him and let him measure you. I’ve told him exactly what I want him to make for you. He makes all my riding clothes for me.’
‘Oh, thank you, Henry.’
‘Pink doesn’t do Western outfits, though, so take this as well.’ He put a black credit card on the table. ‘There’s no practical limit on it, so don’t worry about what you spend.’
Wanda had some vague impression that there was something special about black credit cards. Henry was giving her a taste of what being