Part 1

In an unforeseen relationship between two young women, we follow their emotions, their personality, and their mutual trust through unusual avenues of discovery and pleasure, leading to acceptance and understanding; one showing the way to the other through the meanders of deeper experiences that will affect the course of their lives. This new series follows the Scrapbook and the Prelude series.

The Worst can be the Best

Buckets of downpour, splashing cars and trucks on the slippery highway, required Trish’ undivided attention, for the smallest mistake could quickly turn to tragedy. Little did she realize that the gas indicator was rapidly dropping until a warning sound drew her eyes to the dashboard. Her friend Katrina’s high mileage vehicle had held all these years like Old Faithful, yet this October stormy Saturday afternoon saw the moment when it would breakdown in the worst weather possible. Yet, if there was one lucky strike in it all: the road was going downhill at the time the engine stopped. Trish, almost in panic, switched on the emergency flashers and struggled to direct the car towards a lone gas station, premise of the coming town main business drag.

Fighting with a dead power steering and power brakes at the same time, she could manage to slow down the car, get off the road, and stop it just on the side of the building, next to the repair shop rolling door. Out of breath, her heart beating wild, the bitter taste of fear in her mouth, hugging the steering wheel for all she was worth, her knuckles white with stress, her head buzzing with a thousand sounds, she went to pieces with relief.

After a few minutes, she had calmed down enough to think of what she could do now. She needed a phone. The battery of her cellular was so weak that she could not get a proper communication.  She noticed the profile of a phone booth on the road side, but in that whipping rain it was unthinkable to make a call in the open. She knew she had to reach her friend, for on Monday morning she would need her car to go to work.
She grabbed her purse, opened the driver’s door, slipped her umbrella outside, opened it, and got out of the car. The wind almost lifted her off her feet, and in seconds, the rain soaked her right through. The wind gusts forced her to regain her control despite her wobbly legs; leaning on to the wall of the building with one hand to step over deep puddles, she walked over to the office of the attendant as quickly as she could, hoping there would be somebody in there. There was.

He was sixteen perhaps, midsize, his face covered with acne, a little bit shy with a young woman. She wiped the rain off her face. Her hair was a mess, and her clothes dripping down.

“Would you have a phone? I need to make a local call. My car broke down, all the gas disappeared, and I don’t want to drive with a gas leak in this weather… in any weather.” Trish, still very upset, hardly knew what she was saying.

“I am not supposed to let you use the business phone, but…” he hesitated, “with this rain the boss will probably understand. Let me ask for his permission.”

A few moments later, relieved, Trish had explained her situation to her friend Katrina, with whom she shared an apartment.

“Where are you now?” asked Katrina.

“Somewhere at the entrance of Groveville; 3 miles or so.”

“That’s about forty miles from here… You know what? I have a first cousin in that town, who happens to operate a car repair shop. His name is Jerry Right, and he most likely would pick up the car and fix it on Sunday for me. What is your phone #?”

After a few minutes, Jerry had been contacted by Katrina. He could pick up the car around 8 PM that evening. When Katrina called back, she gave her friend Jerry’s address and phone # so that she could pick up the car and drive it back home when it would be fixed.

“You’ll have to find a place to sleep if you cannot find transportation back here. Leave the keys in the car. He will take it on his wrecker at 8 PM tonight.” had Katrina advised.

Trish was a young woman, thin as a rail, all legs and arms. She had cute round buttocks, a thin waist, B size breasts, a slender neck and an oblong head. Her brown hair had some streaks of dark auburn. Her doe size green eyes framed with long eyelashes hit anyone’s attention first. Her little nose and thin lips framed a smile that seemed restrained some, although her pearly teeth did not need to be hidden. Measuring about five ten, she could not possibly weigh above 105 lbs. She usually wore tight jeans with blouses or sweaters; for some time the colors of these tops had remained dark. Her tastes in shoes varied with her mood and the requirements of the moment. She did not wear all that much jewellery. She had a silver ring, a few bracelets, and sometimes a little necklace. She could slip in a crowd without being noticed. She liked it that way.

Assistance At Least Cost

“It’s only 4:30 PM” said Trish to the attendant. “Is there a bus I could take tonight to go home?”

“Sorry, the only Saturday bus has left.”

“I know nobody here. Is there an inexpensive motel where I could overnight and take the bus in the morning?”

“Well, the first one is quite a ways from here, about 4 miles. I don’t recommend it.” Trish saw herself spending the night on the filthy sofa of that gas station, and with this kid, or trudge in that rain for two hours to find a no vacancy sign in a doubtful motel.

Without really thinking she asked him, “Do you know of someone, a lady who has a house and who could lodge me for a night, a sort of bed and breakfast arrangement?”

The young man thought for a short while; his face twisted a bit and his voice hesitated some. “There is lady in town, wealthy; she comes from England. Her name is Gwen. She volunteers for many things in town, and in the past we have sent to her a couple of people in your situation. I could try for you, if you want.”

What had she got to lose? Trish gave a small nod to the young man. She still was not quite sure after seeing his hesitation, his eyes looking past her; besides, she had noticed a little smile when he mentioned her name.

“What kind of lady is she?” she heard herself asking, as she envisioned entering into a finely appointed home with large rooms, crystal chandeliers, and a staircase like in “Gone with the Wind”.

Again, his face looked upwards over her shoulder; he muttered, “Don’t know much about her; she is from the ol’country… and… is… different.”

“What is her job?” Trish was trying to have her pinned that way.

“She is a nurse, but she does not have to work. Sometimes, she replaces somebody at the hospital where my mother works, or gives home care to a person in a difficult situation.”

“Tell me some more.”

“I don’t know her.” He hesitated. “If you want to know more, there is a girl working at the hamburger joint down the road who knows her. Her name is Jenn”

“Could I call her on the phone?” The attendant handed her the phone number while receiving a payment from a haggard motorist, totally drenched, who had finished pumping gas into his vehicle. Without waiting, she grabbed the phone and called the fast food place.

“Is Jenn available for one minute, please?”

There seemed not to be too many patrons, for Jenn was on the phone right away. Trish introduced herself, and went right to the subject : Gwen. Jenn laughed.

“She is a great big heart with principles and habits of the old country, I guess. She is a good woman. You will be well received. She will pamper you with good things. Play into her games, and you will be her miracle. She would never kill a fly.”

“How much does she ask?”

“You will have to ask her that question. I couldn’t tell. She takes people in for nothing sometimes.”

“For nothing?”

“Yes, she is generous at times.”

“Thank you, Jen, you have been very helpful; bye!”

“I’m glad you feel that way. Bye!”

A free overnight… it is worth a call, thought Trish.

Is This Old Style courteousy?  What else?

Her next number was Gwen’s. A huge alto singing voice with a British accent answered, “To whom have I the honour?”

Trish introduced herself, explained her situation, and asked how much it would cost for one night.

“It’s only 4:45 PM,” she replied, “let me come to where you are with the motor car, and let’s eat a home cooked dinner first, Will You?”

Trish immediately thought, ‘Where is the catch?’ She was starving, true. But she hesitated. “Are you sure you want me for dinner?”

“As a matter of fact, I would like it a lot. I love company and tonight I only have myself. Will You?

To this invitation Trish could not say no, for one thing her stomach was growling and her pocket money was not on the high side. While waiting, Trish had funny feelings creeping up and down her spine. ‘What is she like, that British lady?’ she wondered. ‘She sounds different.’ She tried to put a face, a character to the voice; she felt that this Gwen was in another league, far more cultured and educated than she. Trish fought against feelings of inferiority. ‘She is a female, as I am, is she not? I have brains too; I can take care of myself, even in that rain. I did stop the car on time, British or not. I can meet such a person and remain myself!’ After that pep talk, she felt better and less nervous.

Fifteen minutes later, a dark green Jaguar pulled in front of the door of the gas station, and a six foot tall Barbie like lady, about 32, dressed in a long clear blue satiny raincoat, tightened at the waste by a wide belt, walked through to the door: a large hood covering half of her splendidly combed hair, elegantly framing an intelligent expression of 34 years of age. Yellow rubber boots appeared under the hem of the coat. Instantly, Trish knew it was her.

“Patricia, I presume…. My name is Madam Gwen!”

Trish was so taken back, that she only could make a sign of ascent.

“That’s wonderful; let’s go now!” Her tone of voice did not expect a reply. Turning to the young attendant, she winked at him: “Thanks! Cheerio!”

Sitting next to that tall lady was awe inspiring. Trish’s eyes could not help looking sideways at her, and especially at that coat of hers that draped her long and proportioned body perfectly well : long hips, long legs, tight waist, and a well developed chest. She also had a long and thin neck supporting that classic face: a true model. Besides, it seemed to her that from the coat emanated some kind of subtle and intimate fragrance, which Trish liked; she convinced herself. She had never smelled anything like it. Finally, she noticed that her red gloves were unusually shiny. ‘Who retails such gloves? I want a pair of these’, she wondered by herself.

Then Trish noticed the car, its luxurious appointments, the leather of the seats, the feeling of tightness, of control. The engine responded like race horses; the acceleration, even on these slippery roads presented no apparent difference from dry weather.

“Is your motor car repairable?” asked Gwen.

“I should hope so, Madam Gwen, but it takes a good mechanic, for it has to do with the fuel line.”

“What a shame! I hope you have been able to locate one.”

“Yes, a relative of my roommate has a repair shop in town, and he will pick up the car tonight and fix it tomorrow most likely.”

“This is a piece of luck! What a coincidence!” She waited before exclaiming: “Then we can get acquainted, can we…. That is wonderful!” Gwen’s voice was assured and engaging.

Some time went by until Gwen turned on a country road and drove about half a mile to an imposing entrance with an electric gate that opened automatically, and along another private road to her country home.

“I am sorry to confess that I need to know if I can afford what you want for a bed to overnight here. I have to watch this aspect of my life.”

“Oh, don’t worry at all! I was in want for company tonight, and here you are. You help me with the dishes and we are even. Does that suit you?”

“Well, of course, but I can pay also,” Trish replied with some insistence.

“I am sure about that, but it won’t be necessary” stated Gwen firmly. Trish knew then that there was no more reply possible to this. The matter was settled.

The rain and the winds went on unabated. A click, and a garage door opened, the inside lights switched on. The Jaguar rolled in. Gwen turned the engine off, while the garage door was shutting behind them.

“Let’s get in and make ready for the kitchen, shall we. You have gone through so much and you were not prepared to overnight away from home. But don’t worry. I have plenty of everything here to make you very comfortable.”

Trish was about to reply that it was not necessary, but she held her mouth shut. She could feel that somehow Gwen had things planned, and that it would take a lot to change what she had in mind. Trish hated contestations; she would rather please than fight. This had not always served her well. So she decided to observe Gwen, and to learn from her.

Hospitality, But in a Weird Setting

They walked into a splendid lobby with carpets, old furniture, framed paintings, and a chandelier. There was an upstairs with a curved staircase coming down, almost as she had imagined. Trish was in a state of wonderment, distracted, looking everywhere.

“Let me show you your room and bathroom. But before that, let me explain to you where you are.”

Gwen walked over to the antique armoire of the lobby, kicked her rain boots, and took off her coat. Trish’s eyes opened like saucers; she blushed to the root of her hair: Gwen was naked but for a shiny translucent brief and bra. Her coat made a swishy sound as she carefully placed it on a hanger. She pulled out of the closet a shiny red dress with a front zipper, and closed it up to her generous bust. Then, she took out a shiny white kitchen apron with black poke-a-dots and tied it over and put her feet into slippers that were left by the armoire. When she was done, she looked at open mouthed Trish.

“You are in a home where latex replaces most of the things that are normally made of cotton, wool, silk, and other materials. In Britain, we have been using latex, or India rubber as it used to be called, for over a century, and it is quite common to us all, for our weather is very wet. We consider it as a normal thing. Some people like it more than others; for myself, it is a very appealing material and all the products made thereof, and my household uses it extensively. It is everywhere here, and as my guest you can gain a very good knowledge of its possibilities. Will You?”

Trish remembered what Jenn had said, play into her games. So, latex was the game! She was still nonplussed by that lady, her manner of dress, her daring unashamedness, that home, her entire situation. Latex… will I? Things were going so fast.

“Madam Gwen, I feel so new and inadequate… I don’t know what you expect of me. While rubber is for tires and such, latex for me refers to a kind of paint; beyond that I know nothing. I don’t know what to answer.”

Gwen laughed to tears. Trish was really confused.

“Well, it’s time you really learn what latex is. I repeat myself; are you open and willing to let me impart some knowledge and experience to you? Will You? Yes, or no?”

Trish’s feelings were like a question mark. In spite of this awful weather, that lady had fetched a girl she did not know and had been kind enough to invite her and offer her a home made dinner, a bed. She was a little odd, true, that was understood, but Jenn had said she would not kill a fly. Trish made up her mind.

“Yes” answered Trish in a small voice. She was afraid before so much unknown.

“Very well then; let’s go to your bedroom where you can refresh and change into more suitable and comfortable clothes.”

Gwen opened a door, and led the way through a long corridor that angled on the right, and opened the second door on the right to a bedroom, fairly large, with a small but adequate attached bathroom with toilet, sink and shower. Through the fragrance of the room, Trish noticed that everything in there was made of latex, from the bedding, the furniture slip covers, to the curtains. On the pink and white coloured walls hung pictures of mannequins dressed in various latex garments; they assumed all kinds of poses to accentuate from the draping to the erotic effects of their clothes.

“Will You please undress and go to the bathroom where you can take a shower. I will prepare the clothes which you will put on in the manner written on this instruction sheet. Follow every step, please. Let me assist you with your undress.”

Gwen did not leave the room. Trish knew that she was going to be buck naked before her until in the shower. ‘It’s her game; I willed it; now there is no going back. After all Madam Gwen did disrobe before, had she not?’ Although embarrassed to death, Trish proceeded very quickly. Yet her wet clothes would not obey her wishes. Gwen helped her lift them above her head and pull her tight wet jeans off her long legs.

“I’ll put all that wet stuff on the line in the washroom.”

“Thank you, Madam Gwen!”

Trish disappeared into the bathroom. She did not dare look at herself in the mirror. She was so confused. ‘What did I get myself into?’ she asked herself with a feeling of uncertainty and shame. She could not but wonder with what happened to her within two hours time: the car broke down, and she was now naked in someone else’s home, without her own clothes! Her mind said “No”, but her heart said “Why not?”

She stepped into the shower and got herself warmed up again; the soap was invigorating to her skin, the shampoo delightedly fragrant, so her spirits lifted some. How? As it was her habit in moments of confusion and moodiness, she would use the spray to comfort herself between her legs. The double shower heads allowed her to have one spray in front, and one on her crotch. The exciting feeling brought her to a known ground of comfort. She stopped that water massage when she felt her love juice come down her vagina. The huge and thick warm towel was a treat. She arranged her hair, used the electric dryer fixed to the wall, and wrapped herself in the towel before opening the door.

There, on the all latex bed, she saw the instructions to be followed one at a time. She felt this to be somewhat strange, but so be it. She had nothing else to put on but what she was told; all her clothes were out some other place.

1. Talcum powder. Spread your towel on the floor and put talcum on your entire body generously. The handle will hold the puff for your back.
2. Go to the right closet; on the top shelf you will find the transparent underwear and jell to assist.
3. Once your underwear fits tightly, go to the shelf where you will find stockings and a garter belt. Put them on. Clip the stockings with the three garters on each side.
4. On the left hanger is a pink skirt, your size. Zip it on
5. On the right hanger you will find the matching top. Slip it on
6. On the bottom shelf are your shoes.
7. On the same shelf you will find the belt to your outfit.
8. Come to the parlour when you are dressed.

Play the game! Trish kept repeating these words, for she did not want to displease Gwen. “Might as well enjoy it!” she decided. She took the talcum box and the puff and thoroughly rubbed her body with that talcum powder. She felt real dry, smooth, soft all over, and the talcum had her preferred fragrance: the lily of the valley. She had no trouble powdering her back either. She felt that Gwen had thought of everything in great detail. Looking at herself Trish had to laugh; she looked like she had fallen into a flour sack.

When she went to the closet to fetch the underpants and the jell; she could not understand what the jell was for. She lifted the underwear; the cool and erotic feeling of latex took her by surprise; then, she was taken back when the attached heavy dildo slipped out and hung down in an indecent manner. She let the garment fall on the ground and almost burst into laughter.

“What is this?” she said aloud. She was most intrigued with the latex material which she found smooth and soft; but that thing… After further examination, Trish could not believe that she was supposed to push this dong into her intimate parts. But she decided once more to play the game, and slipped the pants up to her knees. The feeling of the smooth latex caused a strange stir, deep behind her navel. Now she understood where the jell came in. She put some at the entrance of her vagina on her anus and a generous blob on the insert.

The dildo had been slipped into a sheath of sorts that was an integral part to the garment; it had two bulges, one at the head, and one almost at the bottom. The item was somewhat flexible in the middle. In this manner, it could not slip out, but, when inserted, would pull some of the latex of the crotch area into the vagina, thus causing a stretch. (Unbeknownst to her, the bulges were wicked vibrators operated by a wireless controlling unit in Gwen’s pocket) Trish carefully directed that insert straight up her shaft. It first gave her a cold feeling, but with a gentle push, it went in without too much stress, all the way up, as designed to function.

At that moment, she also noticed some knobs in the front of the crotch, insisting to be pushed in between the lips of her labia. She slipped a little more jell there, and pressed them in as it was supposed to be, she thought. Then she lifted the wide waist band of the underpants up and tight above her hips and took a few steps. The feeling was divine. She felt full and erotically massaged with every move of her pelvis. From the outside, these underpants looked perfectly normal, as if nothing was going on; but it was all inside. That mysterious privacy gave her confidence. She wiped off the extra jell with the towel in which there was enough talcum powder to repair any wetness left.

Trish’s sex life was down to about zero, for the guys she knew were only interested in themselves, or in a night for their pleasure. The last one who wanted her sexually happened to be boastful. When he had aroused her, she asked him to slip on a condom. He did not have one. She got so mad that she threw his clothes out of the third floor window, and ousted him. A few minutes later he was behind the door asking for his shoes. She threw one down into the street, and when she saw him find it, she had him wait for the other one.

After that, it had taken her weeks before she could be civil to a man. That precious time had been wasted, true, but it also had taught her prudence and discernment with the male kind. As a result, she had toned down her way of dress, and for some reason it had stayed that way ever since. She had lost ambition and sex appeal, in her and about her. Trish, however, was a beautiful young lady, and could be very attractive in heart, mind and shape. She just had been… hurt!

But tonight was different. It was something between women, something tested, intended to be pleasurable, and she decided she was going to have it all.

Then she went to the closet to fetch a pair of smoky grey transparent latex stockings and the garter belt of the same color but in a thicker guage of latex. Both offered no complication to put on. The tight feeling of the stockings gave her a new confidence in her sensuality; her legs were hugged and smooth; she was aware of every square inch, from her toes to her thighs. The attaching of the garters needed a little skill to which she got used after two or three attempts. She noticed the cute little pink latex bows covering part of the metal buckle. At that point, she looked at herself in the mirror: her shiny and shapely legs, the garter belt firmly holding the stockings, covering and securing the underwear’s waistband too. Trish was intoxicated with these erotic feelings.

She then unfolded the light pink skirt as indicated. It was a dream of softness with a wide and high waist band, like a cinchier; a short back zipper tightened it firmly. She slipped it on; the skirt was tight, it coiffed her behind and opened a little at mid-thigh, and only when her legs were together. Otherwise, the garment would stretch with every step, sending shiny reflections through the pleats. Trish zipped the waist. It fit her perfectly.

Looking at her low body thus dressed, and her bare top undid some of that old prudishness: Trish knew then that she was a super attractive person, that she had tons of sex appeal locked in. In addition, the caress of the latex on her thighs, even through the tight stockings, felt marvellous. Standing there, she was trying to capture her new image and feelings; but in truth she noticed that the concert of all her stimulated nerves focused on those between her legs. 

She went for the top, a short loose shirt in soft pink latex, with long sleeves and an open collar bordered in delicate white piping. As she slipped it on, the feeling of the material on her breasts, shoulders and arms was overwhelming. She put one hand on her mouth to hush a cry of surprise and bewilderment, and the other on her belly, for she could feel some erotic tightness stirring and love juice inundating her inner parts. The gentle rub of the rubber on her nipples was driving her lust up to the ceiling.

“How am I going to live the next hour?” she uttered. “That is the game!” she concluded again.

She delicately slipped her feet into the three inch high heeled grey lacquered shoes with a strap above the ankle. The strap slid into a latch which clicked shut. Too late she saw that a key was needed to take them off. She looked into the closet: no key. ‘Well, I will ask her about it’, she said to herself. While bending to latch her shoes, she could not help peeking at her image on the mirror. The hem of her skirt had lifted to reveal the garters: very sexy indeed!

A silvery latex belt with golden riveted decorative buttons completed the outfit.

Another look into the mirror… “I can’t believe it!!” she said aloud. She looked fantastic, shiny all over; her slim figure was beautiful, her hair, her clothes, and now that belt made up the last touch. She tidied up every detail, went to the bathroom to rearrange her hair. Trish had such a healthy complexion that make up was almost unnecessary. With confidence she walked over to the parlour fighting a trance already, so aroused she felt. Every motion, every step, every breath, new erotic feelings heightened her desires towards climax. She could feel it building up, trying to explode, requesting more stimulation. Trish could not imagine losing it before Gwen. She decided to control herself. Could she? That was the big question. As it was, she could hardly make it to the parlour.

“You look absolutely marvellous; smashing!” exclaimed Madam Gwen, looking her up and down for a moment approvingly.

16.01.09