Mastered

H. L. Maxwell

Text copyright
©
2012
H. L. Maxwell

All
Rights Reserved

I never expected to be the sort of woman who quit two jobs inside
of five weeks, ate a candy bar for breakfast, or wore a man's
oversized flannel to bed, but I also never expected to love having my
best friend watch me lick another woman's pussy. Life can be
surprising like that, sometimes.

As
the mid-day sun spilled through the windows in my bedroom and warmed
the covers, I buried my head under the pillow to block out the sound
of my ringing cell phone. The phone rang and vibrated simultaneously,
and the way it buzzed against the wood reminded me of the way my
small vibrator tickled me to the core the night before. I couldn't
help but smile. Ever since I'd quit my second corporate job of filing
papers and entering mundane data, my sexual appetite had been nearly
insatiable. It was like a switch, and I was almost lucky I didn't
have to go work; I wasn't actually sure I ever wanted to leave my bed
again.

My
phone finally silent, I stretched my arms above my head and relished
in the feel of my muscles pulling taught. Hearing the doorbell, I
mumbled something about nuisances, grabbed a button-down off the
floor, and rushed to the front door.

Uselessly
tugging the flannel down as I flung the door open, I was greeted by
the welcomed sight of my best friend, Jake. We'd met in college and
since then had followed each other from state to state as we both
found new jobs, new lovers, new husbands and wives, and new houses
after the divorces.

“Hey
sleepyhead! Still lazing about, are we?” Jake asked, jabbing me
in the shoulder and winking.

I
grabbed his wrist and pushed it up to his eyes so he could take a
good look at his watch. “For your information,” I said in
a mock-authoritative tone, “it is
only
-”

“-noon.”

“NOON?!”

“You
got that right, darlin'. You've gone and slept your whole day
away...again. Can I come in? Unless of course, it times for your
nap...”

Rolling
my eyes, I stepped back and opened the door wide, waving my arm in a
grandiose circle. “You may enter.”

Sitting
in the chair, his legs spread wide and his arms crossed, Jake watched
me intently as I purposefully plopped down on the sofa, folding my
legs beneath me.

“So,”
he began.

“So?”
I squared my shoulders and did my best impression of indignation.

“So,
it's noon,” he stated simply.

“Yes.”

“So,
it's noon and you just woke up, Mags.”

“...Yes.”

He
thought for a minute, taking in my defensive posture, and making a
steeple with his fingers underneath his chin. “Are you still
unemployed?”

“Yes.”
If he wanted an explanation for my recent bout of irresponsibility,
he was going to have to work for it.

“And...you're
liking
being unemployed?”

“Well
no, but-”

“Are
you still divorced?”

“YES.”
I felt my voice starting to rise, and I tried to settle down before I
got too worked up.

“And
have you even been on a
date
since Alex? Maggie, it's been
over a year. You gotta move on.”

“Look,
Jake, I-”

“No,
Mags. Listen.” He leaned forward in his chair, his arms resting
on his knees. “Over these last few months, I've watched as
you've lost the man you'd loved since you were sixteen, and-”

“Seventeen,
actually, but-”

“AND,
I've watched as you've gone from job to job, stopped answering calls,
stopped going out, stopped interviewing. Don't take this the wrong
way, darlin', but you've stopped having a spark, stopped...being
you
.
I miss you, Mags.”

We
sat for a minute, me looking at the way he ran his fingers through
his hair, a frustrated gesture he'd done for as long as I'd known
him.

“I
know,” I replied, sighing and letting my shoulders slump.

“You
know?”

“Yeah,
Jake.
I know
. It's no mystery that I'm fucking up, okay? I
know I'm not twenty-three anymore. I know I can't just flit around
and sleep late and drink wine and take walks in the sun, but-”

“But
what?”

“But
I'm finally figuring out who the hell I am! I
feel
now. I
feel...alive.”

He
leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms again. “Explaaaain.”

“I
just...okay.” I could feel myself getting flustered. “For
example, I like the way the sun makes my toes tingle when I lie in a
perfect patch of grass. I like the way the water rivers down my back
when I'm in the shower.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And...”
I hesitated, debating whether or not I should tell Jake about my
recent romps in bed.

“And?”

“And
honestly, for the first time in my life, I like how
relaxed
I
feel after...after I, uh, get ready for bed.” I dropped my gaze
to the rug in the living room, blushing at the thought of my recent
extracurriculars. Jake and I may have been friends for a long time,
but we'd never been
those
sorts of friends.

“After
you '
get ready for bed
'?”

“Yeah,
you know. After I...you know.”

“Um?”
He had a smile on his lips as he leaned forward, an exaggerated look
of confusion on his face. He had to have known what I was talking
about, but was determined to make me say it.

“RELEASE,
Jake!” I yelled, throwing my arms in the air for emphasis.
“After I...release.”

He
laughed a little, shaking his head, his eyes finally leveling on
mine.“Mags, are you talking about sex?”

“No!
I mean, yes. Well, sort of. After Alex left me, Julie and Rach and I
all went shopping, and I got that vibrator, you know? As a joke.
Except it's not a joke because actually it feels amazing, and it's
only since I've quit that last horrible job that I've finally felt
like using it. I don't know why. I don't even know what made me want
to!”

I'd
started rambling, and couldn't stop. “I was thinking so much,
about work and Alex and our sex life and my sex life and how I've
never really had one but have always wanted one, the passionate kind;
the kind that leaves me sweating, and panting, and aching, you know?
That kind! So now. I use my vibrator. I use it all the time. And you
know what, Jake? I LOVE IT! I FUCKING LOVE IT...a lot.”

I
brushed my bangs off my forehead, suddenly aware of how hot my face
felt. Clearing my throat, I leaned back and tried to calm my racing
pulse. “Okay?”

There
was a silent pause that went on so long I was just getting ready to
start spilling out apologies for my ridiculous outburst when Jake
laughed and ran the back of his hand across the dark stubble dusting
his jawline.

“And
that's what's been keeping you so...occupied?” He was clearly
amused by my confession.

I
felt my cheeks burn. “Yes.”

“Well
then, little Miss Wells, it seems I've underestimated you.”

“How
do you mean?” He had a glint in his eyes I wasn't used to, but
that I was pretty sure I liked.

He
stood up, his eyes first meeting with mine, then slowly trailing to
the swell of my breasts, clearly visible in my haphazardly-buttoned
shirt, and finally dropping to the soft hairs of my pussy as I sat
with my legs tucked underneath me. Acutely aware of his stare, I
quickly shifted so my legs were tightly crossed in front of me. He
smiled.

“Just
be ready at 8, Mags. And be dressed to impress.”

I
spent the rest of the day primping, something I hadn't done in detail
since Alex left. Hell, I hadn't primped much
before
he left,
which could have been part of the problem. For those last few years,
I had let myself
feel
un-pretty, and whether or not I was
still in-shape and always well-kept, I knew that my bouts of low
self-esteem hadn't helped my marriage.

It
was time to reclaim my confidence. I stood in the shower, feeling the
heat from the stream hit my shoulders, run down the small of my back,
and trace its way over my thighs.

Adding
more soap to my loofah, I dragged the scrubber up one arm, trailing
slowly over my collar bone, just under my neck, and then down to
scrape lightly against my nipples. Feeling them harden in response, I
let my hand that wasn't holding the loofah, slippery with soap, glide
easily along the nubs. I lightly tugged on one, then the other, as my
core began to warm in response. I tilted my head back into the shower
stream, letting the force of the water rub my scalp as my fingers
continued to pluck at my nipples. I couldn't explain why it suddenly
felt so
right
thinking about Jake while I played, but I knew
that night was going to be fun.

After
reluctantly leaving my breasts and slowly lathering up my pussy, I
spread shaving cream over my legs, and began the process of shaving
my lower-half. I languidly dragged the razor up my shins, calves, and
inner thighs, thinking about Jake's eyes on my center. Gently, I
gently spread some shaving cream along my slit and began stroke after
slow stroke, removing the hair that had always covered me.

Sometime
later, I pulled myself out of the relaxing water and deliberately
dried off, applying lotion to my damp skin and reveling in the
smoothness of my entire body beneath my hands.

Then
I did something I'd never done before; I walked naked through my
house. I walked naked through the kitchen. I walked naked up the
stairs. When I walked into my bedroom, I made sure to put an extra
sway in my hips since I knew the man next door would have a perfectly
clear view of my ass as I stood in front of my closet with the doors
opened wide.

I
didn't have the courage to see if he was looking, but the thought of
him watching me prance around, my body on display, made me reach up
and cup the weight of my breasts, tugging lightly on each nipple
before selecting what to wear.

I'd
always been a simple dresser. My past careers, past boyfriends, past
life choices, had dictated that all I needed to get by were a few
pairs of earth-toned slacks, one or two knee-length pencil skirts,
practical flats, and some color-complimenting cardigans. Nothing in
my closet said
touch me
. Nothing in my closet said
I
deserve to be touched
. I thought about running out and getting
something new, but it was already 7 and I still had to dry my hair
and put on makeup. He'd said be dressed to impress, and I wasn't
about to disappoint.

Eventually,
I slipped on my favorite panties, a pair of pale pink boyshorts
trimmed in lace that my girlfriends had given me at my bachelorette
party. I knew that some people would have considered them tame, but
they were a nice step away from the cotton bikini-cuts I usually
wore. Glancing at the clock, I finally conceded that while my panties
may have been sexy, I didn't have many choices for my other clothes.

Resolutely,
I tugged on a simple black pencil skirt, the zipper skimming my
taught sides. I paired it with a black camisole, tucking it into the
top of the skirt and showing my hour-glass figure. Since I didn't
have a bra to match my thin, silk panties, I went without, instead
selecting a tighter camisole that pushed my breasts together and let
them spill over the top.

Needing
a little something extra, I added a thin blouse to my outfit. It was
a fitted number with three-quarter length sleeves, and everywhere
that should have been fabric was open black lace. It was also given
to me at my bachelorette party, and certainly never meant to be worn
in public, but it clung to my body perfectly.

Closer
to eight, after curling my hair loosely so it draped in big, auburn
waves past my shoulders, the ends lightly teasing the tops of my
breasts, I began carefully applying my eye-makeup. I'd never been one
for makeup, instead opting for light blush and a little mascara to
bring out my green eyes, but tonight called for something different.

Adding
a little smokey sparkle to my lids to match the mock-diamond
chandelier earrings, I lined my lashes with a coal-black pencil and
emphasized my eyes with a coat of mascara. I looked like someone who
knew what they wanted, and while I actually had know idea what that
might be, I tossed my hair over my shoulder and decided that night
was going to be about new experiences. I decided that night was going
to be about me.

I
was just pulling on a pair of black high-heels, (the only pair I
owned), when the doorbell rang. Reaching the door, I paused for a
second, took a deep breath, and smoothed the front of my skirt before
opening it.

Jake
looked up from his hands and took in my outfit. “Oh, wow.”

I
smiled in a way that I hoped hid my nervousness.