. .” Not. A. Lesbian. Are those words so hard to say? “Shy. I haven’t been with many . . . lovers before.”“So, you do . . . like me then?”I thrust my lips forward in reply and kissed her hot and deep. Only for a moment, though, since we were at work.Honest to God, she was blushing. And speechless. “Well . . .oh, wow. Me oh my.”“Meet you after work?”“Absolutely.” That night we took a walk and talked. She said she was fine with moving slow, something about anticipation whetting the appetite. I sighed, relieved to have avoided the inevitable again but still dreading the moment of truth. She’d be hurt, probably even disgusted. I’d be fired, of course. I couldn’t even imagine the water cooler talk. Would I be a spurned lesbian? A manipulative liar? A nutjob? None of those options sounded like another job offer would be forthcoming.More than losing my job, though, I dreaded losing Melinda. She was smart and funny, tough as hell at work but tender and vulnerable when we were alone. I didn’t. She would eat forenergy to recover for sex. And then she would sleep about four hoursand then wake up and stand in front of a mirror in which she would tryon the various sexy outfits Marty would buy her and to masturbate toher reflection. She couldn't tell why she turned herself on so much.(But to clarify for you dear audience, it was a little remainder ofJason's sex drive in her, which if you remember, was her basis forcoming back.) She'd continue with that till Marty arrived home and thenthey would go at it until Marty got tired and slept. Then everythingbegan again. And Ashley loved every second of it...Except that she wasstill a little bit human. And lust and greed came a little bit morenatural to her. She wanted Marty all day.So one, lust filled day, while she lay on the couch, masturbating,Ashley devised the plan which starts our story. She thought about herfriend before she died. It was a perfect girl. Perfect tits, blonde,wondrous hips, and as the girl had told her in.
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