The Tennis Star Ch. 04

I felt she should be able to compare them first hand, and laid her down on the bed for a massage. I didn't use oil, 'cause no one wants oily sheets, but she was soon purring under my touch. I eventually flipped her over and completed the job. As I worked around her pussy I could see her straining for a touch, but I denied her even as my mouth watered at the glistening state of her slit. The first touch I allowed was my tongue as I finished in my favorite place, right between Iryna's legs.

"Oh, Carrie, moya lyuba!" She lapsed into Ukrainian as I worked that special spot under her clit, and I finally drank in her delicious release as the powerful woman spasmed in pleasure beneath me.

We clung to each other, kissing deeply as my lover recovered. When we broke a part she tapped me on my nose. "Wait right here. Do not move."

She climbed out of bed and ran down to our bags, while I lifted myself onto my side and struck the most seductive position I could. In my prior life it would have made me feel silly, but with Iryna I was beautiful and sexy.

She walked back in a minute later wearing the leather harness, the long phallus attached, and in her hand she had my anal beads.

"Get on your hand and knees, moya lyuba." I complied, eyes wides, body shivering in anticipation. She knelt behind me, hands caressing my and spreading my cheeks, and I moaned as her tongue began rimming my pucker. This continued for several minutes, until in the delirium of the sensation I had forgotten the other tools she had at her disposal.

Her mouth pulled away and I whimpered in disappointment, until I felt the first of my beads slide inside me. One after another they popped in until all nine were well seated. I was shaking now, my hands squeezing and releasing the bedding in time with my ragged breathing. Iryna's hands held my hips, moving them into position until I felt the warm plastic of her strap-on at my entrance. It began to vibrate as Iryna turned it on, and the length of it pushed inside me.

With each of her thrusts I rocked back into her, trying to force the phallus in as deeply as possible, reveling in the glorious fullness. I lost myself in the rhythm, the wet sounds of penetration, the gasping cries of my pleasure, and then from somewhere another sound of a vibrator, which I suddenly felt against my clit, and the world exploded in joy.

I'd gotten good at telling Iryna when I was coming with the anal beads in place, but this was so sudden and powerful I had no chance. Luckily my lover had learned my body well, and the beads pulled from my backside sent me into orbit. I shook and shook, black and white spots appearing before my eyes. The vibe on my clit kept going as I came, as did Iryna's rhythmic strokes. As the pulses of pleasure finally subsided, I gasped as my beads slid back into place.

The vibe pulled away, and Iryna strokes became long and slow. "One more, moya lyuba?" Iryna's breath was shaky and I knew she wanted to keep going because she was close as well. I honestly didn't know if I could take another round, but how many more chances would I have to feel like this?

I nodded, my voice trembling. "Yeah, gently." She kept up her soft thrusting, and I could feel her undulate her hips against mine as each stroke reached it's full depth, which I knew made the vibrator buried in the pad to rub deliciously against her clit.

Iryna began to become more insistent in her movements and even in my pleasure induced delirium I wanted give my lover her due, so I began wiggling my hips as she pushed in. A few moments later this sent her over the edge, and she fucked me with abandon, every motion giving us both the most exquisite pleasure. My own epic orgasm came quickly afterwards, and somehow Iryna managed to pull the beads in perfect timing with each pulse. I'm pretty sure I was screaming as it went on and on.

I lied there trembling while Iryna quickly removed the harness. Moments later she was next to me and I climbed into her arms, feeling safe and loved as she pulled the covers around us. She loved me. I know she did. So why couldn't I say anything!? I started to drift away, the warmth of her infusing my soul. That's cheesy isn't it? I don't care. It felt so good.

I woke up there, still wrapped up in, well, just her. We were spooning, and I snuggled deeper while she pulled me close. I couldn't tell what time it was.

Understandably there were no windows in the cabin, but there was an indirect skylight, which was still dark, so it wasn't too late. Unfortunately the champagne was taking its toll, and I was going to need the toilet sooner rather than later.

When I came back Iryna was fidgeting in her sleep, reaching for something under the covers. She gave a small whimper and her eyes started open. She immediately relaxed when she saw me as I climbed back between the sheets.

"Honey, are you OK?"

Her hand found mine and I put my other arm around her. Her face was sad and scared. "I could not find you."

"I was just in the bathroom. I'm not going anywhere."

"I know, I am sorry, I ..." She rolled onto her back, covering her eyes with her hand.

"Iryna, you can tell me."

She looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. "I have always had nightmares.

Since I was a girl, since I knew I was different. First they were of being found out, thrown out. And it happened. Then they are of being lost and alone, turned away."

I laid my head on her chest and put an arm around her waist. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

"Thank you, but with you here they do not come, moya lyuba. You keep me safe."

I couldn't speak, so climbed up and kissed her as she held me close, and we fell back asleep. How I could exist without this?

When we woke again morning was streaming in through the skylight. We made a light breakfast by feeding each other the remainders of the strawberries from last night. After packing up and dressing we were ready when our driver returned at ten.

I was still hungry, so we made our way to our lunch destination, Grey's Papaya hot dogs, which was just as amazing as I'd been led to believe.

We sat munching on our lunch. "Iryna, I thought you said today was going to be fancy."

"It will be, but you have wanted to come here, so..."

"I did. So what happens next?"

"Shopping. You will need a dress for tonight."

"Really?" A grin spread across my face. "What for?"

"That is still a surprise, moya lyuba." Iryna had a mischievous gleam in her eye. I had no idea what was going on in that evil little mind of hers, but I could tell she thought

I was going to like it.

We made our way south to lower Manhattan and into SoHo, where we stopped at an understated storefront with only a name in the window written in script, Anya Ribonaskaya, along with two dresses on mannequin's. They were beautiful, done in a elegant fifties style that I loved.

Iryna handed me out of the car and I linked my arm in hers as we walked towards the door. Inside the boutique, which was warm and comfortable, we were immediately approached by a middle-aged woman with long, straight strawberry blonde hair.

"Iryna! Tak priyatno vide' tebya. Vy prekasno vyglyadite!"

"Spasibo." Iryna and the woman gave each other a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Anya, this is my girlfriend, Carrie Mitchell."

"She is as beautiful as you said, Iryna." The woman hugged me and then gave my body a very professional and very thorough looking over.

"Yes, we shall be able to do something very nice for her. You will look ochen krasivyy for this evening. Very beautiful. I am Anya, this is my shop, and we are at your service."

Iryna sat in one of the padded chairs. "She is a very fine dressmaker, for a Russian." This drew a smirk from Anya.

"I have cleared fitting room three. If you will come with me?"

We followed her into a private room with a long padded couch and several nice chairs. Anya called out and two young women in understated but immaculate outfits joined us.

The first gave me an appraising look. "Please remove your clothing."

I shot a shocked glance at Iryna, who just nodded. "They must measure you, moya lyuba."

I swallowed heavily and kicked off shoes before pealed off the long sleeved T I was wearing before unbuckling my belt. Shimmying out of my jeans I forced my self to keep my shoulders back and not cover up. I reached back around for my bra. "You may retain your undergarments. Arms up." The second woman pulled out a measuring tape and set to work.

They conversed in Russian, at least I assume it was Russian, and Iryna sat back and watched with an amused smile on her face. "You owe me big time for this." I tried to say it without moving, but I couldn't help but return her chuckle.

After maybe fifteen minutes of measuring, waist, chest, bust, out-seam, arms, several others that I don't even know the name of, they were done. I was given a robe, and I sat on the couch next to Iryena. "So what are we doing tonight?"

She waved a finger at me. "Not yet." Moments later Anya returned with a rolling rack carrying several long dresses.

Iryna stood up. "This, moya lyuba, is where I leave you."

"What?"

"The driver will stay, and he will take you to your next appointment, and then the hotel, where our bags will be waiting. I have an errand or two to run. I will pick you up at the hotel at six o'clock." She leaned down and kissed me. "You are in very good hands, moya lyuba. I will see you soon."

She spoke to Anya quickly in Russian, and was gone, my mouth still hanging open. The next hour was trying on dress after dress, before settling on a red floor length beauty. I gasped when I saw myself in the mirrors, twirling it left then right..

Anya looked me over again. "Yes, I think this is the one. Now, jewelry."

"I have something. Pearls, from my grandmother."

"Yes, pearls would be perfect." The next thirty minutes were a whirl of activity, pinning and measuring with the dress on. I also was presented with a matching clutch and a pair of three inch wide based pumps with a shiny gold buckle on the arch, complimenting the retro look of the dress. "Now I have work to do. The dress will be delivered to your hotel in time. Have a wonderful evening, my dear."

I was ushered out and, as Iryna had promised, our driver was waiting to pick me up. He took me uptown to a saloon, where I was expected. I showed the stylist a picture of my dress. "Oh, lovely, a throwback, almost. I can see it." She pulled out I magazine and showed me several styles, and we settled on an elegant chignon, which I thought looked beautiful. At least it did on the model we were looking at. In my mind's eye I could see her walking the red carpet in Hollywood 60 years ago, on the arm the Humphrey Bogart or Kirk Douglas.

Danielle, my stylist, dropped my hair suddenly, snapping me out of my reverie. "OK. Shampoo." I was led over to the sinks, where my hair was washed and put into large rollers, and as I sat under the dryer another woman pulled my hand towards her and began to do my nails, and I just luxuriated in the attention.

Unfortunately we were on a time crunch, and the girls worked quickly. Soon I was back in the styling chair, and this time it was down to business. Out came the rollers, my honey brown waves bouncing like I'd never seen them do. Danielle's scissors flashed, snipping off a tiny bit of length, removing any split ends or damaged bits. I closed my eyes and let her work. I could feel her braid a section, and hairpins were put in, and slowly I the style took shape and product applied. "OK, how's that?"

I opened my eyes and gasped a little as I saw myself in the mirror. It was perfect. The last time I'd had my hair professionally done was for Mitch and Cindy's wedding, and it'd been nice, but this, this was exquisite. The bob of the chignon fell just to the base of my neck, and the front sat high and elegant and the sides swept back perfectly.

The ride to the hotel took only a few minutes, despite the ridiculous Manhattan traffic. My door was opened smartly by a liveried doorman, and I walked through a modern styled lobby towards the front desk.

I knew I looked odd, with my perfectly done hair on top of my long sleeved T-shirt and jeans, but even with the hair I felt like a total bumpkin. There were a few people around, each wearing causal clothes that probably cost more than my car. Or was that just my insecurity talking?

"Welcome to the Langham." The pretty brunette behind the counter smiled professionally as I approached.

"Hello, I'm Carrie Mitchell? I, uh..." I had a moment of panic. What was I supposed to ask for? Luckily it turned out it didn't matter.

"Miss Mitchell, yes." She reached behind the counter and made a note on her computer. A bellhop appeared at my arm. "Dennis here will show you to your suite."

"If you'll follow me, Miss Mitchell." He took an envelope from the clerk before leading me to a set of elevators, which we took up to a small hallway that only had two doors, one at either end. Dennis led me to the one on the left, where he scanned a card and opened the door to allow me through.

Surprise, surprise, the room was huge. It didn't have it's own swimming pool like the last one, but still. My bags were already here, set on a table on the side of the room.

There was a living area with a couch and chairs, along with a huge king in the bedroom and a large vanity. I glanced at a clock on the wall, quarter after five. I was going to need to get started on my makeup, which I was not looking forward to. I knew my skills would be hard pressed to match the professional quality of the hair.

I had just moved to my suitcase when there was a knock on the door. I glanced through the peep hole, where a pleasant faced black man looked back at me. "Can I help you?"

"Hello, I'm Terrance, for Miss Mitchell? I'm here to do your makeup!" His voice was so bright and effervescent I couldn't help but laugh as I opened the door.

"Seriously?"

"Would I lie?" He stepped aside and showed me the two totes on a hand cart he had with him.

"You're a miracle. Thank you."

"Of course, girl. We're gonna make you shine." That last word was almost sung in a high falsetto.

I smiled again, and stepped aside to let him in. He looked at me for the first time.

"Oh, so pretty. Now I understand we're doing dinner and a show?" My eyes got big and he covered his mouth. "Oh! I wasn't supposed to say that, was I? Me and my big mouth."

"No problem. It'll be our secret."

"Darling, you're a peach. Now what are we wearing tonight?"

"Um, red, floor length, kinda retro?" I couldn't remember all of the words Anya had used to describe it. "Uh..." Just as I was grasping for an additional description there was another knock, and I opened it to a bellhop holding a long black garment bag with 'Anya Ribonaskaya' in script along the front.

I took the bag and thanked him with a small tip. "This, I'm wearing this." I brought it in and laid it down on the bed, unzipping the bag and pulling out the dress, holding it up to my body.

Terrance looked it over critically. "Oh, lovely. Let's get started, shall we?" He gestured toward the vanity.

I sat on the padded bench and looked into the mirror while Terrance opened up what he'd brought, pulling out the tools of his trade.

I'd never really considered myself beautiful. I knew I wasn't plain, since I've never had any trouble attracting attention from men, whether I wanted it or not, but I'd always chalked that up to an OK face with a good body. But as Terrance began to work, maybe there was something more. As he labored (and chatted constantly) my faced seemed to just jump out of the mirror. As he stepped back, I couldn't believe what I saw. No one who knew me would have any difficulty recognizing the women in the glass. I didn't look made up, it was definitely me, just a ridiculously perfect version of me.

My mouth was hanging open as I reached up and touched my cheek, just to see if I was real.

"Girlfriend, you are gonna knock'em dead. Mmph, I'd love to see the boys fawn over you tonight. I'd be so jealous!" He smiled and patted my hand.

I barely heard him. "Thank you, so much."

Terrance's voice turned more serious "Sweetheart, it was my pleasure. Truly." He pushed a compact and a tube of lipstick into my hand. "These are for touch ups, if you need them. You shouldn't, but just in case. Have a wonderful time tonight."

He packed up and was gone. A check of the clock told me it was quarter till six. Stripping quickly I pulled on my dress, which fit like a glove, far more perfectly than it had in the shop.

Next I went to my suitcase and pulled out the old-fashioned clamshell necklace box and carried it to the vanity. I pulled out my pearls. I still remember my sixteenth birthday, when my grandmother had handed them to me.

A vision of her swam in my head, adorable in her conservative dress. "Wear them for the person you want to marry." Then she patted me on my cheek. My mind reeled at the memory. Person. She'd said person. Not man. I'd assumed that's what she'd meant, I mean what else could she have meant, especially to a silly teenager who was desperately trying to be boy crazy like all her friends?

The strand fastened into place, followed by the matching earrings. They were perfect with the dress. I took several deep breaths before, precisely at six o'clock, there was a knock outside. I rose, stepping into the red shoes, feeling the height they gave me, and floated towards the door. I knew who was on the other side, and my heart fluttered in anticipation.

A final deep inhale, and I pulled it open. My eyes stretched to take in the sight. Iryna was dressed in a tuxedo, but not a man's tux. It had obviously been tailored just for her. The jacket cinched in at the waist, emphasizing the delicate curves of her hips. A white ruffled blouse was accentuated by a bowtie, and the jacket seemed to frame her modest breasts. No one would mistake her gender, not from any direction.

My eye moved to the bouquet of roses in her arms, which she handed to me. I couldn't speak. She was stunningl. I closed my eyes and inhaled the fragrance emanating from the flowers. "Oh Iryna, they're beautiful. You're beautiful."

"And you, moya lyuba, are a vision."

I blushed and my eyes dropped. "It's the hair and make-up."

Iryna stepped forward, running a hand up my arm. "No, it is you. I am just happy people will see you today as beautiful as I see you every day."

I looked up into her eyes. "I don't usually look like this."

"You do to me. Never once have I seen you, and not wanted you more than anything." Iryna took my flowers and placed them in a vase on a small table by the wall. "Now, moya lyuba, may I take you to dinner?"

She offered me her arm, and I slid mine into hers. She was wearing heels as well, so our height difference was the same, which I loved. As the elevator doors closed I looked up at her. Her sharp features made more intense by the French braid that held her dark blonde hair. She was statuesque. Iryna looked down at me, and the stone of her expression softened like always when she did so. We stole a brief kiss before the doors opened again before walking arm in arm through the now quite crowded lobby.

This time every eye turned towards us. Every gentlemen would have been happy to have me on their arm, and many of the women, I think, would not have minded being in either mine or Iryna's place. I kept my head up and shoulders back, trying to look like I belonged. But I did belong. I belonged at Iryna's side, so no matter where we were, with her I was safe. I breathed easier. As we stepped out into the cool of the New York evening our driver was waiting. So also were several people with cameras, and I saw flash bulbs going off as Iryna handed me into the car. She walked around to the other side and joined me in the very spacious back seat.