Lee Garimond

Lesbian slave

Chapter 1

It sure wasn't like any of those jailbreak movies. What a time to be feeling sexy! And all by herself, too, maybe she was abnormal or something. Crouched low, well-hidden but still only hopefully invisible, she recognized the symptoms with a wry grin, a grimace of disbelief. Was it because of the danger? Could one kind of excitement stir up the other? Could the nervous throbbing of her heart have set off that tiny throb between her legs? More like an itch, really, an all too familiar itch. And she didn't dare move, not even to poke a finger down there and scratch it. Awful! This was the crucial moment. Just keep your fingers crossed…

Huddled behind an empty crate, she held her breath as the small delivery truck slowed down to pass the guard stationed at the outer gate. The last guard, the last risk, the last obstacle to freedom; oh shit, if only her cunt would quit acting up! Then, miraculously, there was a noticeable surge forward, a routinely heavy foot on the gas pedal, no doubt and she could grin for real, at last able to afford the luxury of a lovely scratch. They were through the gate. She was free. Talk about luxury! Free! Wasn't that the most luxurious of all luxuries?

Better not get cocky, though. There was more to be done. But at least she was outside the wall, safe and sound, and those spinning wheels were already leaving the reformatory far behind. Her escape was an accomplished fact. All that remained now was to duck out of the rear opening of the truck without being spotted. A simple enough maneuver, especially with nightfall coming on fast. No need to hurry, let it grow nice and dark first; why not stay put until they reached the turn-off, the highway into town? And meanwhile she might as well use the time to get herself organized.

Not that there was so much to organize. A name, mainly. Any name. Any name but her real one. From the instant she went through that iron gate back there, the inmate Genevieve Eichelberger had ceased to exist. And what a relief that was an added bounty to an already bountiful day, this chance to change her dumb name. Let it be short and simple, even a bit common, all the more difficult to trace, all the more practical in her game of hide-and-seek with the law. The simpler the better, then as far as possible from Genevieve Eichelberger, ugh! easy to get used to, easy to spell, easy to sign, easy to work up some phony ID for. Something like Smith or Jones, maybe. Okay, why not settle for one of those? Smith. Jones. Mary Smith. No, that was a little too common. How about Judy Jones? Hmm. Not bad, not bad at all. Common, sure, but with a nice ring to it. Judy Jones. Kind of sweet, even. Demure. Nobody would suspect a cute little girl named Judy Jones of anything more sinful than a sneaky affair with her soapy washcloth under the shower. Such an angel…

It was enough to make her laugh out loud. But she couldn't, of course, not with the unsuspecting driver so close. The poor dummy didn't know he had company. Holding it down to a silent chuckle, she mouthed the new name over and over again. And then as though it had been hers since birth that was how she thought of herself. Maybe there had been some kid named Genevieve Eichelberger stuck behind those grim reformatory walls, but that was in the past now. Ancient history. A happy girl named Judy Jones was off and running. And that was that; so much for her name. What next?

Clothing would be a problem. She wouldn't get very far in this gray denim outfit. But at least she had something to cover up with, right here in this precious bundle a rolled-up trenchcoat, stolen hurriedly from one of the matrons. And inside it was the pair of plain leather sandals that they had let her keep and use for bedroom slippers. Not much for a young lady about to make a fresh start in life. But the breaks would come, she figured. They always did. The main thing was to recognize and take advantage of them. Be ready. Uh-huh. Ready for whatever came along. Like now, for instance. The truck had slowed down again; was it for the stop sign at the entrance to the big concrete highway? If so, this was the place to go bye-bye. She sure didn't want to venture into the nearby town of Wicklow, where an army of cops would be alerted the minute the alarm went out.

The truck creaked to a halt. Judy clutched her bundle and slithered over the tailboard, dropping out of sight to the darkness of the black roadbed. Then the wheels rolled again, onto the brighter concrete, and she was safe. Suppressing her exhilaration, she scrambled hastily down the embankment, down into the hollow created by the juncture of the road and the highway. And there, at last, sheltered by the friendly bushes and the still darkening sky, she gave vent to her long-pent-up emotion and burst into a fit of giggles.

She got it out of her system in a hurry, though. The price of freedom is vigilance. This wasn't the time to crow. Or the place, either. Up above, the traffic seemed fairly light, but there were plenty of cars whizzing by just the same; now she had to get lucky and flag a ride. But not in this damned uniform. Or any part of it. And she stripped quickly, taking everything off, since even the underwear would be a giveaway. The night air was comfortably warm and it felt good to be naked. But she couldn't stop to savor the sensation, not with so much work to do yet.

Uh-huh. Vigilance! She put the trenchcoat on. It was a trifle big, but the belt around the waist helped. She drew it tight and made a knot that was secure and yet managed to appear casual, an effect further enhanced as the leather sandals were fitted to her feet. Casual. All in all, she looked pretty good then, just a nice young kid dressed in a coat and sandals, scuffed-up but not really scruffy. Who would ever guess that she wore only her bare skin underneath?

It felt good, too. Kind of sexy. Wouldn't it be fun if she got picked up by some nice young guy who would want her body enough to sympathize with her awful plight? Enough to buy her some clothes, perhaps, after an overnight stop at a motel. She'd better not get her hopes up, though, it would probably be some ugly old geezer instead; wasn't that always the way? But what the hell, what she needed most was a ride, a nice long ride out of this danger area. And as for feeling sexy, well, that was nothing new these days. No, only the name was new, not the body, not her cunt, her itchy-drooly cunt. Get your hand out of there, Judy Jones, this is no time to be fingerfucking yourself…

The admonition set her giggling again, a little guilty now, but she sobered immediately and finished her task. Wadding the reformatory shoes and underthings inside the gray denim dress, she jammed the whole mess into a crack between rocks in the embankment. It would be discovered eventually, no doubt, washed out by the rain, most likely, but she wouldn't be around when that occurred. Anyway, she was glad to ditch the drab stuff, the last link to that poor dumb what's-her-name, the dumb bunny who had gone out hunting for thrills and wound up behind high walls and locked gates. It could never happen to a smart babe like Judy Jones. Never!

She climbed up and trotted across the highway during the first break in traffic. Then, buoyant with optimism, she scanned the oncoming flow of cars headed away from town. The direction was all she cared about, her destination was as yet undecided. Anywhere would be fine, just so long as it was miles away from Wicklow and its county reformatory. Miles away from here.

A number of vehicles went by before the right one came along. A car with a single occupant, so that witnesses to her escape might remain at the minimum just the guy behind the wheel, nobody else. And it was the right one, sure enough; she heard brakes begin to squeal the instant the driver got a peek at her raised thumb.

"Hop in, young lady."

"Uh-huh… " Judy hesitated momentarily and then slid onto the front seat. "Thanks. Thank you very much."

She wondered if her choice of cars wasn't a mistake. The driver was a woman. Not an uncommon occurrence, really, but still an unforeseen development in her plans. She knew how to handle men. But who could tell about women? Like the matrons in the reformatory. Some were okay, probably, but she just didn't trust them and this one was definitely an unknown quantity. Better play it cagey at this point, real cagey, just watching and waiting…

"Going far, my dear?"

"Far enough. I haven't made up my mind yet."

"Oh?" The woman smiled, her eyes on the road ahead as the car picked up speed. "I hope you're not running away from home."

"Nope. Nothing like that." Judy made up a story in a hurry. "I'm just traveling. I left a drunken stepfather behind me, and I'm thinking about visiting my aunt in California."

"California. You do have a distance to go. But aren't you rather young to be hitchhiking alone?"

"I'm older than I look. And more experienced, too. Don't worry, I can take care of myself."

"If you say so. Incidentally, my name is Vera. Vera Carlisle and I live in Malvern. That's where I'm going now. It's west of here, a hundred and fifty miles or thereabouts, so we're certainly headed in the right direction for you."

"Yeah. Thanks. That's great."

"And how about you, my dear, won't you tell me who you are? Not that I'm inquisitive at least not overly so but since we're riding together I'll have to call you something, won't I?"

"Oh. Sorry. Call me Judy. Judy Jones."

"Judy Jones. Glad to know you, Judy. And glad to have you aboard, I must admit. It's a long and weary drive to Malvern, and a bit of company will help keep me awake."

Nodding happily, Judy relaxed and settled back into the comfort of the cushioned seat. She had it made. A hundred and fifty miles on her first hitch and with someone who seemed absolutely safe now, someone who might even make the journey pleasant. Someone who just wanted company; what luck!

She peered at the woman surreptitiously, a sidelong glance out of the corner of her eye, quite impressed by the vision. Some solid body there, big and ripe and bulging with sex appeal. Beautiful hair, too auburn, it looked like, auburn hair piled high on her head almost like a crown. Blue eyes, evidently, although it was hard to tell for sure in this light. Nice features, though, no doubt about that, and her creamy skin had a kind of glow to it. Pearly. Iridescent, that was the word. Uh-huh. For an old dame late thirties, at least this Vera something-or-other was impressive, all right. Carlisle? Yeah, that sounded like it, Vera Carlisle. Pretty gorgeous, in a maturely stacked way. Hardly the typical housewife. And rich, of course, judging by her clothes and by this car, not new but still quite a buggy. Judy wondered what it would be like to live like that, never worrying about money or security. Dull, maybe. And then again, maybe not. Considering her own lousy life in the slums and behind reformatory walls, who was she to say?

Her eyelids drooped after a while, and she began to feel the effects of the long day. Like a steel spring losing its tension. And then, somehow even with her eyes closed she knew the woman was looking at her. Surveying her, looking her over carefully, more so than should have been necessary by now. She could almost sense that auburn head turning, the quizzical gaze shifting back and forth between the windshield and herself. As though there was something peculiar involved, something out of the ordinary…

Slowly, imperceptibly, Judy's eyes became narrow slits. She was being ogled, no doubt about it. A patch of her bare thigh was showing. And that seemed to be the target for those intermittent peeks. It might have stemmed from mere curiosity, admittedly, but she had already caught a more complex intimation. Was it possible that she had been picked up by a dyke?

She experimented with the notion, allowing more leg to show, squirming a little to maneuver the flap of the trenchcoat. And then the reaction came, the sound, a near-stifled gasp, just audible enough to confirm her suspicions. Lesbian! Or a reasonable facsimile. The woman might not bear the name, but she was sure playing the game still casting those too-curious glances, still ogling her young flesh, still coming on like a dirty old man.

Okay, what about it? Judy pondered the issue. She wasn't exactly unfamiliar with gay games, the girl-girl stuff, having played around herself back at the reformatory. It hadn't been much, though, just a little halfway measure to let off some steam when the kids got all moony over memories of their boy-friends. She had always steered clear of anything more serious, avoiding the butchy types who really went in for that sort of thing. Not that there wasn't plenty of it going on, in spite of the strict rules and regulations. There were even some wild rumors about the matrons, for that matter, although most have them had been real dogs, too fat and ugly to be interesting even if the situation got desperate.

But this one now this Vera Carlisle person was neither butchy nor repulsive. Playing games with her might even be fun. And she was rich, wasn't she? Why not turn a predicament into an advantage? Let her ogle the fresh young meat then, let her get all hotted up and hopeful; wouldn't a rich bitch like that be generous with her loot at the right moment? She sure looked like a soft touch. Couldn't she be persuaded to help a sweet young kid replenish her wardrobe? A few extra bucks would sure come in handy. The idea would have to be broached gently, of course in a roundabout manner, the subtle approach not like a whore dickering with her John. Even if it did amount to the same thing in the end. Judy was well aware of the commercial value of her body. A man would have been willing to pay for it. And wasn't a dyke something like a man?

Again she shut her eyes, nestling into the seat and letting the coat ride high on her thighs. But she wasn't so sleepy now. Just worn out from the long day. Worn out but wide-awake and wondering about the long night ahead.

Chapter 2

The highway ran straight and smooth. The car practically drove itself, and Vera's grip on the wheel was relaxed and restful. But nothing else felt that way. Only her hands. The rest of her body was a mass of tension. Because of the girl…

And because of the length of pale thigh that gleamed so bewitchingly in the dim light from the dashboard. How could she relax in the presence of such tempting flesh? It was like a glowing beacon that demanded her attention. So exciting! The bare thigh and everything else. So young! No longer an adolescent, perhaps, but not yet a woman. Hardly more than a child, really, and yet the little devil exuded a certain erotic sensuality. The mop of curly brown hair, the piquant heart-shaped face, the deep brown eyes now concealed by thickly fringed lids; what a paradox that such a kitten-like creature could seem so sexy.

But there was no other word for it. Sexy. Despite her incomplete development, the kid was already exquisitely endowed. Her breasts were small, but the nicely formed conical shapes jutted enticingly. And there was no hint of teenage spindliness in those lyrelike curves accentuated by the knotted trenchcoat belt. Even when the traffic grew heavy enough to require some concentration, Vera couldn't keep her eyes from drifting over to take stock.

Hmm. Take stock? The obtrusive thought made her wince. But she was doing it, just the same measuring that body and imagining it naked in bed. Asinine, to say the least. As if she had designs on the sweet young thing. After all, she was much too involved with a sweet young thing of her own not quite so young, of course, but infinitely sweeter. And her sweet Alison was a known quantity, pretty much, not a vague figure in the night like this intriguing but cryptic roadside waif.

It did make the journey less tedious, though. Delightful to look at, delightful indeed. And stirring, too, in spite of the mixture of fatigue and despondency resulting from that long conference with the lawyer in Springfield. At the moment, it was even easy to forget money problems and such. Good for morale, actually. Wouldn't it be fun to find some excuse to stop somewhere and explore the possibilities of this chance encounter?

Vera grunted in disgust, shaking her head resolutely and returning her gaze to the road. What a monstrous idea! Seducing a little girl, a child almost. She refused to let herself think about it. What was she looking for, trouble? A poor homeless hitchhiker: How awful! It made her feel like some lecherous old man, the type that hung around schoolyards and led children into debauchery. Only a lecherous old woman was even worse…

"Uh, ma'am?"

"Oh, you're awake. But you needn't call me ma'am. My name is Vera, remember? Did you have a nice nap?"

"Uh-huh. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to doze. I'm supposed to stay awake and be good company for you."

"It's all right. No apology necessary."

Even though the girl's eyes were open, there was no change in her posture; the alluring leg-show remained uncovered. Now the display seemed purposeful rather than careless, and Vera wrinkled her brow in perplexity. No, this wasn't exactly a picture of childish innocence that she was seeing. More like a calculated coyness, surely. Or was that just her own overstimulated imagination?

Food for thought, anyway. Up until now she had peeked at that bare flesh and felt the desire and analyzed only herself, strictly introspective in attitude. But the time for introspection had run its course, apparently. The situation had altered somewhat, giving her the right to take a more objective view. The kid might have been feigning sleep just to exhibit her body, allowing it to be looked over and sized up without embarrassment. And if so, then what about the rest of her story? That tale of the drunken stepfather sure sounded phony. Lurid, really, the kind of melodramatic thing a young mind would invent as a cover-up for something else. Even that mention of the aunt in California had been brief and indefinite enough to be spurious.

Vera shrugged. It was none of her business, of course. Except that the youngster's odd behavior was making it so. There was more to this "homeless waif than met the eye. Although what met the eye was certainly plenty provocative in itself…

In front of her, the windshield blurred suddenly as a spatter of fat raindrops struck. It took her by surprise, coming from out of nowhere, just a big blob of water at first. But more followed, soon becoming a pattern as the car moved into it. She turned the wipers on and her vision cleared as the blades came to life and clicked into monotonous motion.

"Hey, is that rain? Funny. I could have sworn the stars were out just a little while ago."

"Uh-huh. Must be a squall, Judy. I didn't expect it myself, either. I'm not fond of driving on a wet pavement. You're dressed for it, though, in case it gets chilly. That trenchcoat should keep you nice and warm. Lucky girl… "

"Yeah. Lucky, that's me." The accompanying giggle was shrill and humorless. "Oh sure, nice and warm."

As the tinny laugh was choked off, Vera flashed a quizzical glance in time to see the pretty face go momentarily grim. She watched the road after that, adjusting the windshield wipers busily. But now she was more conscious than ever of her young companion. That mirthless snicker, almost a sound of derision. The sullen expression, the oddly sarcastic tone of voice. Why? What had brought it on? Something about the raincoat?

It took a while to sink in. And a few more sidelong peeks in that direction. Then stark realization came with a wallop, an impact that set her taut nerves atwang. Although she still couldn't quite make herself believe it. Imagination again? Underneath the coat was the kid naked!

Try as she might, Vera couldn't recall having seen any other garment. Nary a scrap of fabric, above or below. A blouse or dress or sweater would have been visible at the top. Even the smallest miniskirts would have obstructed the view of that bare thigh. But there was nothing like that, nothing at all. Just the tightly belted trenchcoat and those simple leather sandals.

Well, maybe there were some bits of underwear inside, hidden from sight. Bra and panties, quite likely. But anything more substantial would surely have showed; the light from the dashboard was bright enough to reveal that much, at least. Nude, then? Or nearly so? Incredible as it seemed, she could no longer doubt it. Her highway pickup was wearing damn little if anything beneath that coat.

Desire flared anew, hot, lustful, a thing of torment. A thing of need. Vera felt her insides churn with excitement. What kind of girl would be out at night dressed like that? Not an innocent one, oh no, not any more innocent than the deliberately bared thigh or the obviously contrived sob-story about a drunken stepfather and an aunt in faraway California. This was no Little Miss Muffet who would rise up shrieking in alarm at the approach of some predatory spider. No indeed, this kid had probably abandoned the sanctity of her tuffet ages ago.

The rain was coming down harder. Vera hit the window buttons, running the glass panes up tight into their insulated channels. It affected the air circulation immediately, walling off outside drafts and permitting an interior humidity to build up. She could smell the girl now. And herself, too. Odor mingled with odor, musky, ruttish, intoxicating, cunty…

A battery of lights blazed up ahead, vaguely recognizable even from that distance. And then the familiar restaurant sign. A big place bus stop, cafeteria, gasoline pumps, motel cabins she had stopped off there before on her comparatively frequent trips between Malvern and Springfield. It loomed out of the dark downpour like an oasis in the dry desert. A wet but very welcome oasis at the moment for reasons that she refused to admit even to herself. No matter. Weren't there some other, more legitimate reasons to pull in?

"Oh, good. I know this place. Let's see now, do we need gas? Umm, no, I guess not. But the food isn't bad here, if I remember rightly. Are you hungry, my dear? I'm going to stop and rest for a few minutes until the rain lets up, anyway. And meanwhile we'll grab a bite to eat."

"I I'm not very hungry."

"No? Just a sandwich and coffee, then. I insist. And it's my treat, of course."

"Well, uh, maybe a little something. Is it a drive-in?"

"Drive in? With carhops carrying trays out, you mean? I'm afraid not, Judy, we'll have to go inside for service. But don't worry, I'll park right up close and we can make a dash for "

"No. Thanks just the same, I'd rather skip it. You go. I'll just sit and wait in the car."

"Come now, that's silly."

"Please. I'd rather. If you don't mind."

For a while, Vera focused her attention on maneuvering off the highway and into the parking area. Then, cutting the engine at last, she pondered momentarily and got the full significance of this stubborn and somewhat irrational show of reluctance. Her pickup was afraid to enter the restaurant! Whatever the reason…

Because of the way she was dressed? Possibly. But she could keep the trenchcoat on without looking conspicuous. So it had to be more than that. Whatever the reason, the kid seemed desperately anxious to avoid the public eye. No doubt about it, she just didn't want to be seen.

And the reason, the only plausible reason? Vera went hot in delicious anticipation, despite the clammy atmosphere. This cute little youngster was evidently on the run. Some sort of fugitive. The stepfather yarn might even be true, in that case, but it didn't alter the immediate situation at all. Judy Jones was stuck. Afraid of being recognized, she couldn't risk an appearance outside the car. Nor would she dare try to hitch another ride anywhere near this brightly lit place of business. If ever a kid needed a helping hand, this one did, yes indeed and wasn't she lucky to have found someone with just the hand to offer? Wasn't it a bit of luck for both of them?

On the pretext of peering out, Vera leaned over and patted the bare knee casually. "This nasty rain. If it doesn't let up soon, I might just spend the night here. The cabins are supposed to be quite comfortable. They're out back private, you know? Oh well, we'll see. I can't make decisions on an empty stomach. Sit tight, honey, I'll rustle us up some food. Here goes… "

She slipped away hastily, aware of the stunned gaze and avoiding the questions that were bound to follow. It was something to think about, the idea of an overnight stay, and she had managed to drop the bomb without committing herself. Better yet, she no longer minded that "dirty old lecher" feeling now. It had a special thrill, this thing she was contemplating, deliberately setting out to seduce a young stranger in the night. A wicked thrill, sure, but her qualms of conscience had all been erased back out there in the car. Any girl who thumbed a ride wearing just a raincoat could only be considered fair game, regardless of age. A man picking her up would have made that assumption, certainly, why not a woman? Ah yes, it was thrilling to play the huntress on the prowl, the huntress stalking her prey. Especially when the prey was so appetizing a tidbit. Why worry about conscience at a time like this?

Conscience? Appetizing tidbit? Vera's head cleared, aided first by the rainy air and then by the busy brightness of the big cafeteria. Wasn't she getting her priorities screwed up? Such a treasure, that kid out there, a priceless nugget; how stupid to squander it on a quick thrill, a one-night stand. Why not make use of her? The seduction would have to wait. I'm thinking with my head now, not my clitoris. If the girl was afraid to be seen, why put her in danger here, why hang around and invite trouble? No motel cabins, no quickies, no sex for the sake of sex alone. A woman with money worries couldn't afford to waste her resources. Money worries and a maid about to quit, a very necessary maid, essential to her plans. Where would she ever find another Solange? And then what would happen to the Alison scheme? It would all come tumbling down like a house of cards.

Okay, then, no wasted resources. Wouldn't the little runaway make an ideal houseguest? For a few days, anyhow. Perhaps even longer. A cute little play-toy to amuse Solange and keep her from quitting. Which, in turn, would allow more time to work on Alison. So maybe the lawyer in Springfield wasn't so smart after all, maybe there was a way out…

Laden with sandwiches and coffee containers, Vera braved the elements again and returned to the car. It looked empty, giving her a panicky moment or two. Then she breathed a sigh of relief as the curly head popped up and the door swung open. Thank heaven! Nice to be able to trust her own judgment; the kid was still here.

"You're loaded. Wait, let me help."

"Thanks. I didn't see you. Watch the coffee, it's hot."

"I I was just relaxing. You took so awfully long in there."

Vera shrugged, disguising her more immediate reaction with the business of apportioning the food. Just relaxing. That too was probably a fib. The scared youngster must have ducked down to avoid the notice of any customers entering and leaving the restaurant, few as they were in this weather. Judy Jones definitely had something to hide. Even her name might be a phony.

"Mmm, good. I sure appreciate this. But, uh, about what you said a while ago. You know. Vera? Are you going to take a cabin and stay over?"

"I'm giving it some thought."

"Don't you have to get to… uh… "

"Malvern. But there's no hurry, at least not for me. What about you, dear? Must you keep traveling? I dread the idea of putting you out to hitch a ride in this miserable rain. Are you in a rush to get to California?"

"N-no, not really. Uh, my aunt doesn't even know I'm coming, so another day won't make much difference. But the rain isn't so bad now. And besides, I couldn't afford to pay for a "

"Hush. You'd be my guest. If we stay, that is. But you're right, the rain does seem to be letting up. Hmm. I wonder. If there's really no hurry about California… "