City Girl in the Desert

"Uptown Sophisticate" was my self-designated title at our wonderfully bland suburban high school, forever emblazoned on my senior page beside a picture of me in a slinky dress and black tights and all the cheap jewelry I could afford on my allowance.

"Pretentious bitch" was my detractors' behind-the-back name for me.

I was aware of it and I didn't care. I couldn't wait to leave behind the teenage wonderland of cookie-cutter houses and lame house parties and football games for the big city. If I couldn't get out until at least college, I could at least dress the part and act it as best I could.

I used to keep a running tally of how many days I could go without wearing jeans, and senior year I managed to never wear them. Naturally the first one to notice was my best friend, Katie, a couple of months into the year. "Do you even own any jeans anymore, Christie?" she'd asked in that innocent drawl of hers.

"Of course," I'd said. "I might need to break down and wear them in winter. But we'll see if I can avoid it!"

"God, don't let my mother hear you say that next time you come over!" Katie had said. "She's always after me to wear skirts more often. I can just hear her asking me already, why I can't be more like you!"

A decade later, having long since lost touch with all my high school friends except Katie, that comment still stung. If only Katie knew how many times my parents had said the same thing to me about her! My best friend since about the fourth grade, the quiet and innocent one who didn't even seem to notice she had breasts for the first few years she did, who mostly seemed happy in plain sweaters and jeans and who showed no interest in dating until Jimmy Newton asked her to prom and even then didn't even notice what a knockout she was in her royal blue gown. Shorter than I and a little heavy, but she wore it well, usually a better student than I was until I decided in ninth grade that I wanted to go away to college after all, the brainiac to my fashion hound, the nerd to my princess, she and I made an odd couple but an inseparable one all through those boring years back home.

Our fifth grade teacher called us Mutt and Jeff because I was three heads taller, and she never quite caught up and so the name stuck. We hated it, but I've got to admit it fit.

That comment about wearing more skirts was hanging heavy in my mind that early spring morning at the coffeehouse as I waited for her. In the ten years since high school, we'd seen each other on holidays in college and occasionally afterward -- just enough to know we'd both grown up a lot, but not everything had changed -- and now that life had finally blown her back my way for a semester in New York, but her studies and my job had kept us both too busy to get together yet. It had probably been at least two years, I mused over my latte, and I wondered if the butterfly had finally come out of her cocoon.

"Christie!"

I looked up and saw it still hadn't happened, even as I jumped up to hug my old friend. No surprise that she was wearing jeans while I was in a skirt and tights, or that she still had the plain long hair she'd worn all through high school while I had a stylish short 'do, and we both laughed at just how much hadn't changed in all that time.

"Nice hair," she said, plopping down across the tiny table from me. She'd lost most of her baby fat over the years, and now looked curvy and robust rather than fat. I was a little envious, to my great surprise. I've been a loyal gym-goer and my figure is slim and beautiful, but sometimes I do think it'd be fun to actually need a bra and to have hips.

"Thank you," I said, patting it with my left hand. "Jean-Charles came very highly recommended by a girlfriend of mine at the gym. He had a six-month waiting list and it set me back two hundred dollars, but you can see it was worth it!"

Katie laughed and quickly turned away to wave down the waiter and order a hot chocolate. "Wow, you sure haven't changed!" she said as soon as we were alone together.

"Neither have you," I said. "Hot chocolate? Don't you know how full of calories that is?"

"Hey, I go swimming at the university gym every day," she said. "I refuse to starve myself."

"Well, you do want to look good in a swimsuit, don't you, if you're going to wear one every day?"

"I'm there to swim, Christine, not to show off. Besides, I get my share of looks from the guys."

"I hope that's all you're getting from them," I said. There was no way Katie knew how to fight off a jerk like I could.

"Most of them are fine," Katie said. "Pleasant looks and conversation, and it's not like I'm not checking them out, too." She giggled, just like back in high school. "Speaking of which, I can bring a guest if you want to join me one of these days."

"No thanks." The poor thing didn't need these guys she was flirting with to see me in my bikini, after all; they'd never give her another look.

"Oh, right, you never did learn to swim, did you?"

"That too." It slipped out.

"That too?" Katie asked. "That and what else?"

"Oh, well, I mean, too busy at work," I said. "Lately it's a pleasant surprise if I get home before seven o'clock. In fact, I'm seriously considering a leave of absence for the summer. It'd be good to get out of New York anyway. Lately I'm feeling like one of those natives who never sets foot off Manhattan, you know?"

"You look like one, too, Miss Uptown Sophisticate." Katie was lucky the waiter arrived with her cocoa at that moment, and she looked up and thanked him.

"You're the only one I'd let get away with that one, kiddo!" And then only because I'd nearly let my concerns about outshining her at the pool come to light. But fair's fair.

"I'm blunt because I love you, of course," Katie said, sipping her drink. "But listen, I was thinking of asking anyway, I've got a fellowship to study in Abu Dhabi this summer and I'll be staying at that commune out in the desert."

"What commune?"

"The one I stayed at last time, remember? Two years ago?"

"Oh, okay." I didn't remember it at all, but then Katie's studies had flung her all over the place.

"Right," she said. "Anyway, if you want to come spend a few weeks there..."

"Are you kidding, Katie?! They hate women over there, or at least women like me! I'd probably be stoned to death the minute I got off the plane!"

"It's not like that!" Katie said. "Especially not at the commune. It's mostly Westerners anyway, and they're all really openminded. Maybe too much so for you, actually."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Only one way for you to find out, isn't there?" Katie grinned. "To tell you the truth, it's nothing like your style. But I think you could use a little taste of it, to be frank."

"Do you, now?" This was most unexpected of my wonderfully plain old friend. "Then maybe I ought to come over. Fine."

"Wonderful," Katie said, and she looked like she meant it. "But I think you ought to practice your swimming between now and then. We spend a lot of time in the pool there, and you don't want to miss out on that."

"I don't suppose I do," I admitted. But now her giddy confidence had me a little worried. "Tell me, if you don't mind my asking, you've slimmed down a lot. Are you wearing a bikini these days?"

"Thank you, but you'll just have to wait and see what I wear to the pool."

She had that same twinkle in her eye as she said it that she'd always had when some boy I liked had given her the eye. I wondered why, but I didn't dwell on it.

What I did do was tell her all about my latest beau, Ronald. "He's a day trader, and the hours are ridiculous," I said. "But it does pay. You should see his car. First time he asked me out, I thought he looked a little nerdy, to tell you the truth. Lucky him, I'd overheard him telling another guy he drove a Jaguar, so I gave him a shot. He bought me this, too." I held my hand out and let her admire my new pinkie ring. "Great in the sack, too, when I'm willing to go to bed early anyway."

"I don't need to know, Christine," Katie said.

"Oh, we're girlfriends, Katie, it's okay!" I said. "He's great, but I wish he was up for more than once a night sometimes. That old joke about how the man always rolls over and falls asleep? I never had that happen before, but with Ronald it does. I even try tickling his balls sometimes to wake him up, and --"

"Christine, please!" Katie whined.

"Oh, all right, Katie, you always were a bit of a prude." I stood up. "I'm running late for my waxing anyway. I suppose you don't want to hear about that either."

"I don't even want to think about that," Katie said. "Doesn't it hurt like hell?"

"You mean you've never done it?" I'd seen my dear friend in the locker room enough times to know she needed it a lot more than I did. "Katie, I insist on making you an appointment before we go to your commune."

"No way, Christine. I'm happy with the way I look, finally."

"Don't you want the men at the commune to notice you at the pool?"

"That's not something I've got any concerns about, Christine." She sounded chilly for some reason. She never did have an ear for when I was only trying to help.

I checked my watch; Charlene did not like to be kept waiting. "All right for now, darling," I said. "But let's at least think about it before summer, okay?" I leaned over and kissed her cheek, and she did the same but didn't answer me.

"I really ought to drag her to Charlene's before this trip of ours," I called to Ronald that night as I was getting changed in his bathroom.

"Soundproof door, babe," he reminded me. So I finished changing into my nightie in silence, safely tucking away my clothes in my overnight bag. We'd only been together a month or so; I look beautiful in my underwear but I wasn't ready for him to see that just yet.

Besides, I reminded myself as I admired my freshly bald womanhood in the mirror, great beauty should be revealed all at once, not gradually. The better to knock his socks off with.

As I stepped out into his bedroom with my head held high and my body bare, I saw I couldn't knock his socks off, because he already wasn't wearing any. Or anything else. "Well, hello there!" he said in a silly effort at a sexy purr as I took my turn around the bed for him. "Somebody's happy to see you," he added, waving his dick at me the way he always did, which had the unfortunate effect of reminding me once again that he wasn't as well-endowed as I'd have liked. Jaguar, I reminded myself as I smiled through my disappointment. The rest of his body wasn't too bad, at least. A bit on the skinny side and no tan at all, but he did work out -- about a six. A six but a day trader with a Jaguar.

"Now what were you saying?" he asked, rubbing himself like a teenager. I decided to let him.

"I was saying I ought to drag Katie to Charlene's with me before that trip," I said. "For a waxing." I ran my fingers over my pussy. "She'll be sorry if she doesn't, you know, spending a summer at the pool with me there."

"The way you talk about her, would that be enough anyway?" Ronald asked. "Isn't she kind of a girl-next-door?"

"She's not a pretty woman," I admitted. "But that's no excuse not to try, you know? Sometimes I feel like asking her, don't you know how hard I work to be this beautiful? This summer I guess she'll have to take notice. But enough about Katie, Ronald." I climbed onto the bed. "You gonna bring that over here or what?"

"But of course!" He finally let go of himself and reached over for me as I lay back beside him.

Ronald was better than a six in bed -- maybe an eight or so. He did know how to fondle my breasts just right, and my sighs of pleasure were genuine as he kissed and caressed them. His timing before his hands and his mouth headed south were pretty good, too -- long enough to get me wet but not to get me frustrated before he reached down and rubbed my pussy. "Ooohhhh, feels great!" I cooed, and it did. His fingers were a little clumsy down there, but Charlene had done a great job as usual and even his uncertain touch was lovely on my nice smooth skin.

He remembered I liked two fingers, and his agility was better inside than out. "Ohhf!" My gasp was real, as were the following moans. If only he could bend his dick like he could his fingers! I closed my eyes to enjoy the sensation, so I didn't realize he was going down on me until I felt his kisses on my belly. That gave me the usual good-news-bad-news flutters, but at least the good news came first.

Ronald was a ten with his tongue. He was enough to make me wish I could settle for that alone. I never could, but at least my pleasure was real as he licked and kissed me all over my pussy. My sexual responsiveness is excellent, but I try not to overdo it with a guy like Ronald. It's all too easy for him to notice I'm not nearly as boisterous when he's inside me. It's not like he can help being at least an inch too small, and I hate having to remember to fake it. So I did my best to hold back on just how wonderful that tongue of his felt on my clit.

Wonderful, though, it was, and he got me off all too soon. "Thank you!" I sighed. I tried to reach over and grab some tissues from the bedside table before he raised his head, but naturally being a man he always had to pop up right away.

I smiled through my impending revulsion as he lay down on me, and tried to focus on the pleasure -- such as it was -- of his dick inside me at last. It was better than nothing. "Mmm, lovely, Ronald," I whispered.

He leaned in for a kiss, and I tried to act like there was nothing wrong. But his face was absolutely glistening with my wetness, and I just couldn't. "Stop!"

"What?" He stopped his tentative humping and hovered just over me.

"This is what." I wiped his face with both of my hands, getting as much of the wretched stuff off as I could. "Okay, now you can kiss me," I said.

"May I, now?" And he did. The taste of myself on his tongue was utterly disgusting, but I reminded myself it could have been worse as I let him nibble my lips and lick my teeth.

I do prefer being on top, but I find I put on quite a show when I'm that much in control, and Ronald wasn't ready to see that much of me. Besides, his timing wasn't bad, and he did have me worked up pretty well with his humping. I let go and enjoyed his modest penetration for what it was, and he did bring me off twice before he came.

"Wonderful, dear," I said, waving off another kiss from him as he pulled out.

"You're beautiful, Christine," he said.

"Thank you."

"Going to shower again?"

"Of course." I got up as soon as he was off me.

"Don't you just want to fall asleep together for once?" he asked as I headed for the bathroom.

"I can never fall asleep that fast anyway," I said.

I saw Katie a few more times before summer came, but never got a chance to introduce her to Ronald as he called it off a few weeks after that night. "Probably just as well," I told Katie when we got together for cocktails in May. "Playboys never know a treasure even when it's in their arms!"

"I'm sure you told him what a treasure you were, though," Katie said.

"What's that supposed to mean? Ronald wasn't blind, he didn't need me to tell him!"

Katie laughed. "God, Christine, you're never going to change, are you?"

"Why would I want to? So I knew what I wanted for my life when we were kids. What's wrong with that?" I sipped my drink. "Besides, it's just as well. Ronald was only a six. I can do better. Eight in bed, though."

"Here we go again," Katie said.

"Katie, girlfriends talk! No holding back! Or are you jealous? How long has it been?"

"About eight months," Katie admitted. "And he was more than an eight in bed, I'll tell you that much."

"How do you know?" I didn't bother saying there was no way shy, demure little Katie could have the frame of reference I did; she didn't need me kicking her when she was down.

"What do you mean how do I know?" Katie was smiling but I heard an edge on her voice for some reason. "The same way you do, either a guy's dynamite in bed or he isn't. And Andy was."

"Andy with the mommy issues?" I remembered her emails about him now that I heard the name.

"That's the one. Poor guy needed counselling, bad. But the sex was..." She paused and took a sip of her drink. "Wow! I think my record was ten orgasms."

"In one night?" I was aghast. "Katie, you should never let a man know he can give you that much pleasure! What if men knew we like it as much as they did? Where would that leave us?"

Katie laughed. "Oh, grow up."

"I'm serious! You think Ronald would have bought me this ring if he knew I'd let him do me ten times in one night?"

"No doubt he wouldn't, Christine. I'm sure you're right about that."

"Exactly. I usually am when it comes to men. But the damage is done with this Andy guy, I guess."

"Oh, he deserves a woman who appreciates him," Katie said. "If he does ever get his issues worked out, he's going to make someone awfully lucky."

"Ten times lucky," I grumbled.

"It's not just that," Katie said. "Every time was so gentle, so magical. He had a way of tickling my vulva that made me climb walls..."

"Vulva!" I laughed. "God, listen to you, Katie, are you a grade school sex-ed teacher now?"

"That's the real word for it, and I think it's got a wonderful dignity," Katie said. "You've got your opinion, I've got mine."

"I guess," I said. "Anyway, I'm sorry you've had this dry spell. You must be horny as hell."

"You've got that right," Katie said. "I don't even try to get to sleep anymore without masturbating first."

"You masturbate?!"

"Don't expect me to believe you don't, Christine!"

"Believe it or don't believe it. I don't. That's what guys are for!"

"That and jewelry, huh?" Katie laughed.

"Well, yeah," I said. "I had that figured out a long time ago!"

The look Katie gave me made it clear that she didn't get my point at all. But I was used to that. As long as I could remember, things tended to go miles over her head as far as men were concerned. But she was my dear old friend, and I was worried about her. I didn't want to see her getting too dependent on her own hands like men are, after all.

There was nothing I could do about it, of course, and I really didn't want to have to think about it in the first place. But it did unavoidably come to mind on my next workout. The gym is the one and only place where I'm sometimes tempted to do what Katie had so ungraciously revealed to me that she did. It isn't just that a good workout is nearly as good as sex, much as that is true. It's also that I'm usually the most gorgeous woman in the room, and that plus the workout puts ideas in my head that are awfully hard to ignore when I finally retire to the locker room and peel my leotard off.

These days at the gym I'm almost always the only one in a leotard. That also helps put me in that randy frame of mind, and probably would even if it didn't add to my attractiveness compared to the other women. I've gotten my share of dirty looks from them in their plain t-shirts and sweats, and even apparently had one official complaint against me (according to Mike, the PT I slept with twice last fall), but it went nowhere because I'm not breaking any rules by looking beautiful.

But all that was no more on my mind than it usually is when I finished my workout the evening after that uncomfortably revealing discussion with Katie. What was on my mind was that usual temptation I felt, which thanks to Katie I was feeling harder than ever, damn her!

Most of the other women changed out of their workout clothes at the lockers and then wore a towel off to the shower. I never did. My breasts are spectacular, and I don't take them out for just anyone. So I was safely locked in a nice private shower stall before I undressed, which was a mistake in retrospect. It meant I was free to touch myself and confirm just what I had feared.