Some Enchanted Evening

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This was Lilly’s night to shine. She was among her colleagues and peers, honoring the superstars of mental health and she was proud of her place as a successful entrepreneur in behavioral health care among the glittering crowd of psychiatrists, psychologists, and psychotherapists at the annual banquet and gala. Her husband, that would be me, didn’t attend. She knows I hate her professional world of psychobabble and my presence would cramp her style–professionally as well as socially.

My Tiger Lilly was a vibrant, brilliant, and sexy fifty-year old, still exuding youth rather than matronly age. People–women as well as men–were drawn to her and tried to latch on if they could. “Sometimes I feel like the tit of the world,” she would say jokingly. Tonight she wore a long, black, form-fitting gown, strapless with deep cleavage at the front, a pretty patterned lacey shawl, and stylish gold sandals. The last thing she expected was a crisis of bodily functions.

She took generous helpings of the hors d’ouvres and was chatting with two of her colleagues, awaiting the entrees to be served when she felt her tummy begin to churn, rumble, and squeak audibly. A warm sensation under her seat led her to hold her butt cheeks tight and get out of her chair. Lilly walked, trotted, and ran across the ballroom floor toward the restrooms, wet-farting all the way.

“I can’t possibly be the only one who ate something bad,” she was thinking as she pushed open the ladies room door with both hands. Lilly noticed she startled a short, stout Asian woman in uniform sitting by the battery of sinks with wash cloths, towels, and assorted powder-room paraphernalia on a tray. She shouldered open the stall door while rustling up her silky gown from the hem with both hands.

The washroom attendant heard Lilly cry out, “Oh, no, no, no!” The sounds of splashing were unmistakable, as was the foul stink that floated throughout the facility. “I can’t believe I shit myself!” Lilly moaned. The next sound from her stall was a gasp, followed by sobbing. Lilly’s pretty black gown was covered in liquefied brown poppycock.

Then there was a rapping of fingers against the side of the stall and an accented voice asked, “You all right, lady?”

“Um, yes,” mumbled Lilly, stooped over the soiled bowl and peeing heartily. “Uh, actually, no, I’m not all right.” The attendant listened to the sound of Lilly unrolling some tissue and blowing her nose. Then she said, “I’ve ruined my dress… and everything.”

“Do you have change of clothes in your handbag?” the attendant asked. “I always bring extra underpants in case I pee.”

Lilly had a WTF moment, london escort agency sitting on the can, covered in foul-smelling shit, discussing underwear with the hotel’s help.

“I have a pair of slacks and a sweatshirt in my car,” answered Lilly. “But how can I go get them… I can’t stay here at the gala dressed like that anyway.” A pause was followed by a breathless wailing, as Lilly–one of the toughest witches with a capital B you will ever meat–bawled uncontrollably while seated on a dirty toilet.

The next voice she heard said, “I help you.”

Without waiting for Lilly to invite such intimacy, the woman opened the unlatched stall door and gestured for Lilly to get up on her feet. Lilly stood as the woman surveyed the black dress and said, “Take off, lady. I clean.” The attendant nearly slapped Lilly’s hands as she started to lift the dress over her head. “No, make more dirty that way.” The woman deftly tugged from the bodice and pulled the garment to Lilly’s waist, letting it fall and catching it before it hit the messy floor. Lilly stepped out of her crappy undies and handed them to her helper, who pinched the panty between two fingers of one hand while holding her nose with the other and tossed it into a refuse bin. Next, the bathroom attendant swung into action, slapping an “OUT OF ORDER” sign on the bathroom door and locked it. She took Lilly by the hand and led her to the sinks, where hot steaming water was already filling one of the fancy porcelain basins. With a broad smiling face, she said, “Come, I get you clean.”

Before looking at herself in a state of disaster through the mirror, Lilly asked meekly, “What’s your name?”

“Call me Ivy,” the woman answered, causing Lilly to wonder if their similarly floral names formed a bond between them. Maybe Ivy had replaced an unpronounceable Chinese name with something easy for white and black folks to remember.

First, Ivy put Lilly’s shitty dress in the hot water and let it soak. Next, she ran the water in the neighboring sink and wet a washcloth. Ivy beckoned and Lilly came to her naked as a jaybird except for her gold hoop earrings, diamond wedding ring, and sandals. Ivy told Lilly to kick off the sandals and went to work scrubbing her butt, thighs, and legs, wiping the feces from her waist to her ankles. Lilly felt like gagging from the overbearing smell of fecal matter, especially realizing her body was the bearer of it. After the first wipe down, Ivy discarded the old washcloth and grabbed a fresh one, wetting it and wiping Lilly’s flesh again. Ivy used a firm, steady, circular motion that felt warm and almost affectionate, thought Lilly. She felt like a baby escort london whose mommy was cleaning her poopy bum with a loving touch. The feeling intensified when Ivy gently ran over the crevices of Lilly’s pubic area, the fleshy folds outside her vagina, and even gently poked inside her crease. With a gentle nudge, Ivy coaxed Lilly to lean against the commode and rubbed up and down the crack of her ass, scrubbed the notch at the top of her rectum, and cleaned out the red dot of her anus. Then, Ivy opened a bottle of lotion and began to massage Lilly’s abdomen, belly, hips, buttocks, inner and outer thighs, and the mound of Venus. Lilly closed her eyes and nearly reached the crest of an orgasm. She looked down at Ivy and said, “You’re an angel.” Ivy just smiled.

The bathroom attendant rolled the black dress into a tubular shape and squeezed out the excess water. She held it up. It was damp and mottled.

“Oh, it’s soaking wet,” Lilly lamented.

“No worry,” Ivy assured. “I fix.”

After laying the garment flat on the counter, Ivy held two hair dryers in her hands and turned them on, running the heat in even waves from top to bottom and repeating the process for five minutes. In the mean time, Lilly stood by in the nude, modestly cupping her hands over her breasts to conceal her nipples, even though her cunt and ass had been not only seen, but also touched by this perfect stranger.

Ivy triumphantly held up the little black dress, warmed and dried. Lilly raised her arms and let Ivy drape the silky gown over her shoulders. “Aah?” cooed Ivy as she pointed to Lilly’s pretty reflection in the mirror. Lilly responded by hugging and kissing the little woman, whose beauty in Lilly’s eyes filled her with affection. Lilly found her purse and opened her wallet. She wished she had a Franklin or a Grant, but took a couple of Jacksons and a Hamilton. Aghast, Ivy backed away and waved her hands angrily. “No, no money!”

Lilly felt badly. “Please, Ivy, let me give you a tip. You saved my life tonight.”

The chubby old lady looked like an angry toad in a cartoon, stomping around. “No, I don’t want no money.”

Lilly acquiesced and put the bills back in her wallet. She hugged and kissed Ivy again, this time feeling Ivy’s wet lips respond in kind. Another quick word of thanks and Lilly exited the ladies room, returning to the banquet as if nothing untoward had occurred.

As the gala evening wound down, most of the attendees departed and Lilly lingered, hoping sweet Ivy’s shift continued till the approaching midnight hour. My wife, Lilly, is a generous soul by nature and so she was determined to reward Ivy in some way. In the ladies room, london escorts Lilly noticed that the shit-covered stall she messed up was now clean and sparkling. Lilly called Ivy’s name and heard it echo. There followed rapid, tiny footsteps and Ivy appeared.

“Oh, Lilly?”

Ivy wore her medium length black hair in pigtails and her jelly bean eyes sparkled as the focal point of her broad smiling face.

“I want to repay you for your kindness,” Lilly said slowly taking hold of both Ivy’s hands.

“I told you no money, Lilly.” She made a frown that seemed almost comical. “I mean it.”

Lilly’s breath quickened and heartbeat raced, as she said softly, “I know a different way to reward you.”

The taller, younger woman put her arms around the older, shorter woman’s chubby shoulders and pressed her lips against Ivy’s face. She kissed Ivy’s lips, and, after a second of hesitation, the washroom lady’s mouth opened to welcome Lilly’s dancing tongue. They licked one another’s lips and swapped spit. Lilly smiled, Ivy smiled, and they kissed like long-lost lovers.

The professional woman led the minimum-wage worker to the cushioned chair usually occupied by paying hotel patrons taking a breather. Lilly sat Ivy down and knelt in front of her, cautiously lifting the hem of Ivy’s smock. When Ivy didn’t object, Lilly lifted her smock further, over Ivy’s flabby thighs, revealing her full-cut white underpants. Lilly rolled the fabric up around Ivy’s waist and the older lady pulled off her undies. Ivy shifted her butt in the chair so that her grateful friend could kiss and sniff her pussy. Lilly planted tiny kisses starting from Ivy’s knees and going all the way up to her navel. After tangling her long fingers in Ivy’s sparse, wiry pubic hair, Lilly tickled Ivy’s clitoris with her tongue and slipped her fingers between the old chick’s juicy labia. Ivy rocked slowly as Lilly licked, nibbled, and sucked her clit while twirling, jabbing, and rubbing her warm, moist vagina. Ivy jiggled in orgasm and Lilly sat up to take off the rest of Ivy’s clothing. Smock, undershirt, and bra came off and revealed Ivy’s withered boobs, looking like deflated balloons. Lilly lovingly caressed and suckled Ivy’s breasts before resuming her cunnilingus.

After Ivy came the second time, Lilly paused to take off her clothes and Ivy laughed, “I see your ass again, Lilly.” The two ladies cuddled in a figure eight with their faces in each others’ crotches and ate each other out until nearly simultaneous orgasms erupted. Ivy’s cunt tasted sweaty and salty, but Lilly liked it.

The ladies’ final act was a vigorous scissors on the floor, ten minutes of hard cunt rubbing, followed by Lilly coming stiffly while Ivy wiggled and hollered as she came.

Lilly and Ivy kissed goodnight more like daughter and mother than clandestine lesbian lovers.

“I just wanted to thank you,” Lilly explained impishly.

“Oh, Lilly!”

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