The Secret Sex Lives of Wanda Mitty

‘The Chandlers are a prestigious family,’ she said, often. ‘Decorum is de rigueur.’

Wanda hated to admit it but her mom was a prude and a snob, very old school. At least, she was where Wanda was concerned. For herself, short skirts or ones with slits and less than modest necklines were fine. Not that she couldn’t carry it off. Parked in her very late forties, she still had the body of a twenty-year-old.

The outing was a chance for Wanda to wear her engagement ring. It had nine diamonds, set in a square pattern of three threes. She didn’t know much about gems but each stone had to be at least a carat, so the ring was too much for the supermarket. For a swanky restaurant, it was fine.

Although The Captain’s Table’s brunch was a buffet; the maître d’ greeted Wanda and her mother and showed them to their table, where Lucinda was waiting, alone. The elegant woman, as slender, lithe and tight-skinned as Wanda’s mom even though she had to be at least five years older, rose to embrace her. The two mature women air-kissed to both sides, then pecked each other’s pursed lips. The contact was brief but, Wanda felt, electric. Were her mom and Henry’s doing the horizontal? Wanda shuddered and thrust the thought away. Those were images she certainly didn’t want sneaking around inside her head, waiting for their chances to soil her fantasies.

Wanda had a seat on a bench against the wall, under a cartoon of a bare-breasted mermaid riding a seahorse, side-saddle, of course. Wanda took the seat that’d be directly to Henry’s head-of-the-table right. Lucinda sank into the seat that’d be to his left, between him and Wanda’s mom.

‘Henry’s sorry he’s late,’ Lucinda explained. ‘He’s picking up his cousin, Kitty, who will be joining us.’

‘Kitty?’ Wanda asked.

‘They’ve been playmates since they were children,’ Lucinda continued. ‘Best pals forever and all that.’

Playing what? Doctor? That wasn’t a very charitable thought. Wanda shoved it away to join her nasty suspicions about Lucinda and her mom. Kinky fantasies starring herself were bad enough. If she started involving friends and family, that’d be really sick. Too sick to even tell Dr Sullivan about?

Leggy waitresses in musical comedy versions of sailor suits brought champagne and orange juice. Wanda sipped and then swallowed. It was early in the day for alcohol, but a Buck’s Fizz barely counts, right? Then again, she’d skipped breakfast. She pushed the flute three inches further away, then pulled it back. What the hell! She deserved some fun in life.

Lucinda turned her head towards the entrance and brightened. ‘Here he is!’ she sighed in a tone most people would have reserved for the Second Coming.

Despite herself, Wanda found that she was straightening and pulling her tummy in. He was only a man, after all. He might be six-foot four, ruggedly handsome and charming, with a boatload of money, but he was still human. Right?

Henry was wearing navy espadrilles, crisp white pants, a smart blue blazer and a cravat, and he held a captain’s cap under his arm.

‘Henry always likes to dress up,’ Lucinda boasted.

Does he? Did that mean that he was metrosexual, or simply gay? Was he planning to marry her just to be his ‘beard’?

Kitty, her black hair in a pixie-cut to match her big-eyed pixie-face, also wore a blue blazer, with a mid-thigh white pleated skirt, bobby-socks and deck shoes. They were co-ordinated. She wasn’t. Kitty was showing her legs off. She wasn’t.

With a great effort, Wanda stopped grinding her teeth. She rose into Henry’s warmish embrace and cheek-kiss.

Lucinda made the introductions.

Henry declared that he was famished and suggested they raid the buffet. Good idea. Food would give Wanda something to sink her teeth into, apart from Kitty’s elegant neck.

Henry was right in front of her in the line. He took lots of raw oysters so Wanda did likewise. So did Kitty.

‘Oysters, huh?’ Kitty remarked.

Not sure what the girl meant or was implying, Wanda just nodded.

‘You might want a lemon wedge,’ Kitty prompted her.

‘I was hoping for lime,’ Wanda replied, trumping the reminder but still taking the advice.

Kitty ignored that and said, ‘I was hoping for some tongue. I’m very fond of tongue. How about you, Wanda?’

‘That depends,’ Wanda replied, leaving off the ‘whose tongue’ that had almost sprung to her lips.

‘You’re right. It certainly does depend, on so many things.’ Kitty gave Wanda a brief fluttering wink, which Wanda interpreted as ‘whose tongue’ plus ‘and where it’s licking’.

Perhaps the girl wasn’t such a bad sort, after all. She was more slender than Wanda, which meant she was a bit skinny, of course. It was impossible to tell about her tits, under that blazer and a horizontal striped boat-necked cotton sweater. Wanda suspected that her own were better, or, at least, bigger.

The buffet line started with lobster tails. Wanda chose one that was arched high out of its split shell, like it was struggling to be born. There were a variety of pâtés, herring, shrimp, crab and lobster. Wanda took a serving each of the crab and the lobster. A blob of Russian salad and a few black olives absolved her conscience about taking all the high-cost, high-protein offerings, so she was able to feel fine about the two paper-thin slices of very rare roast beef, with creamed horseradish.

Henry dropped a couple of gigantic butterfly scampi on top of her beef. ‘These are very good,’ he told her.

‘Thank you, Henry.’ She could always skip supper, and breakfast tomorrow. Maybe lunch, as well.

Back at the table, a heaped bread basket plus little pots of dressing and drawn butter had appeared. Kitty shed her blazer and dropped it onto the bench seat beside her, though a waitress whipped it away in less than ten seconds. Her sweater was skin-tight so that Wanda could see that she had cup-cake tits, small but firm and projecting, with obvious nipples. Not bad. The hem of the sweater was cropped and elasticised, leaving a three-inch band of bare tanned skin at her midriff. Neither Lucinda nor Martha, Wanda’s mom, showed any sign of disapproval, whereas, if it had been her dressed like that, she’d have been given a slow verbal roast in hell for it. Perhaps it was because Wanda was ‘spoken’ for and Kitty wasn’t? That’d be some compensation.

Kitty nudged Wanda with her thigh. ‘I’m sure that we are going to become great friends,’ she declared. ‘I can feel it already.’ She rested a warm palm on Wanda’s knee and squeezed.

‘Thank you.’ That was confusing. It isn’t fair when someone you’ve decided to hate comes on all warm and friendly. And ‘comes on’ to boot!

Wanda picked up a small fork and prodded at the lobster meat, not sure how to proceed. Next to her, Kitty simply plucked her tail from its casing with her fingers, dipped it in a sauce and slowly sucked at the pinkish-white meat. There was no doubt in Wanda’s mind. The girl was fellating the firm flesh.

Kitty dipped again. ‘I do love this sauce, don’t you, Wanda?’

‘I’ve tasted better.’

‘Haven’t we all! I wonder if this is a cock or a hen lobster?’

‘Does it make a difference?’ Wanda asked.

‘They’re both good, I’m sure, but I like to know what I’m putting in my mouth, anyway.’

The blatant innuendoes confirmed that Kitty was definitely a naughty girl. Wanda liked that, even if the girl’s freedom to be openly bad made her jealous. Under different circumstances, she and Kitty could have been very good friends. Come to that, she really couldn’t hold Kitty’s past whatever-it-had-been with Henry against her.

Henry had his head back, pouring an oyster into his mouth. His Adam’s apple bobbed. Did oysters evoke the female essence for him as much as lobster tails did the male one for her?

Her mother and Lucinda were looking into each other’s eyes as they too slurped oysters. Oh my God! If that didn’t confirm exactly what Wanda didn’t want confirmed, what would?

So as not to mimic Kitty, Wanda picked her tail up and sank her teeth into it. The sweet meat was resilient enough she could almost fancy it was alive and moving inside her mouth. On her tongue.

This wasn’t a brunch. It was a goddamned food orgy!

Four loud and burly young men brought plates that were pyramided with the buffet’s offerings to the next table. Wanda threw a glance at Kitty to see if she disapproved of the newcomers as much as she did. There was something about the young woman’s profile …

Wanda twisted on her bench seat and looked up at the cartoon. There was a definite likeness between Kitty and the mermaid. And Henry drew. As far as she could see, the picture wasn’t signed, not even with initials. If it had been, and the signature had been ‘Henry Chandler’, or the initials ‘HC’, that would have been very unpleasant.

Henry’s knee touched hers under the table. Was his hand going to follow? Please?

He asked her, ‘Do you ride, Wanda?’

She nodded. Her mother had made sure that she was raised ‘above her station’. Upward mobility had been the theme of her life, imposed by her sole parent. Her mom hadn’t been mistaken though, after all, all being well. From shoe-shop assistant to the wife of a multimillionaire would certainly be an upward move.

‘English saddle, or Western?’

‘Either – both. Not at once.’

He grinned, warming her heart. ‘Funny girl! My negotiations will be finished in a couple of days. I plan to take a few days off to get to know my bride better.’

Did he mean sex? Please, God, let him mean hot sweaty, maybe kinky, sex!

He continued, ‘I thought we could all go out to the ranch, kick back, take it easy, with maybe some riding? You have a quality about you, Wanda, that makes me want to see you in full English riding regalia.’

The men at the next table were laughing raucously.

‘I don’t have …’ she began.

‘No, of course not. Here, take this.’ Henry handed her a business card. Mr Pink, Bespoke Habits. ‘He does boots, as well. I’d like you to go see him and let him measure you. I’ve told him exactly what I want him to make for you. He makes all my riding clothes for me.’

‘Oh, thank you, Henry.’

‘Pink doesn’t do Western outfits, though, so take this as well.’ He put a black credit card on the table. ‘There’s no practical limit on it, so don’t worry about what you spend.’

Wanda had some vague impression that there was something special about black credit cards. Henry was giving her a taste of what being married to a very rich man was like. That was a kind of courtship, wasn’t it? Wanda tucked both cards away in her purse and made sure to wedge her purse between herself and Kitty, where no one would be able to snatch it. The backs of Wanda’s fingers pressed briefly against Kitty’s hip. The hip pressed back. Wanda clamped down on her imagination before it could take her where she didn’t want to go. Perhaps she should get away from the table, and the heat of Kitty’s slender young body.

‘I’m up for dessert,’ Wanda announced.

Henry laid a finger on her wrist, where it seared her flesh. ‘I hope you don’t mind but I ordered a special dessert for us. It’ll be right along.’ He lifted his other hand, sending a waitress scurrying towards the kitchen.

‘What is it?’ Martha asked.

‘Figs.’

Martha looked taken aback, which was exactly how Wanda felt. Figs?

Henry explained. ‘Fresh green Smyrna figs, slit open and some of the pulp scooped out. They’re filled with raw Demerara sugar that has been supersaturated with dark 180-proof rum. Then they are wrapped in foil and baked so that the aroma penetrates the flesh.’

Kitty, under her breath, whispered, ‘Penetrates the flesh.’

Wanda couldn’t help but echo, ‘Penetrates the flesh.’ She and Kitty exchanged sly glances and didn’t giggle.

Henry continued. ‘Once they are out of the oven, they are opened, topped with clotted cream and served very quickly, while the hot and cold still contrast. I think you’ll find them amusing. If not, there’s an ample dessert buffet to choose from.’

‘I’ve never heard of that dish,’ Wanda admitted. ‘What’s it called?’

‘I haven’t named it yet. If you like it, perhaps it will be “Figs Wanda”.’

‘Your recipe?’

‘The chef here allows me to dabble.’

Oh! He likes to dress up. He cooks fancy desserts. Please, please, please don’t let him be gay!

The chef himself appeared, complete with his high hat and check pants, and served them each with a single cream-slathered fig in a cut-glass coupe. Henry thanked him. He bowed to the table and retreated to his domain.

Wanda picked up her dessert fork. As she prodded through the cream, a perfume that could have got her drunk just from breathing deeply burst up at her. She dug in and scooped a morsel out. Oh! It did things on her tongue, soothing things, but exciting things. Her sinuses seemed to sigh. Beneath her tongue, saliva pooled. Wanda sucked in a deep breath. It tingled all the way down into her lungs. Perhaps deeper.

‘How do you like it?’ Henry asked.

Everyone but Wanda proclaimed their approval. She was too busy enjoying the contrast of texture between clotted cream and tiny smooth fig seeds. Eventually, she managed to breathe, ‘Divine!’

Kitty added, ‘Devilishly so! Figs Diablo?’

For a while, the table was quiet as all devoured Henry’s creations. That seemed to make the noise from the other table louder. There was a squeal of chair legs on hardwood as one of the oafs twisted round to glare at Henry.

‘Hey, you, sailor boy! You got four fine-lookin’ bitches there and we got none. That’s no fair! Send ’em over to us and we’ll show ’em how real men treat their women.’

Henry dabbed at his lips with a napkin, set it down carefully and stood up. ‘I suggest that you and your friends pay your bill and leave.’ His voice was soft and calm.

‘Oh yeah?’ The hooligan snatched his glass beer mug up and cracked it down on the edge of his table, leaving a glittering multi-bladed weapon in his trembling fist.

Wanda stood in fear for her fiancé, though what she could do was beyond her.

The man swung shards of glass at Henry’s face. Henry brushed it aside with his left hand and looped his right fist up and over to slam down on the man’s cheek, driving him to his knees. He swayed, then toppled to lie there, face distorted, eyes closed, blood trickling from his nose and bubbling from the corner of his mouth.

Henry looked at the man’s three companions. ‘I repeat, I suggest that you pay your bill and leave.’

The three looked at each other sheepishly. One said, ‘George was drunk.’

‘And so are you,’ Henry observed. ‘And now George is on the floor.’

The three tossed bills onto the table. Two of them lifted George by his armpits and dragged him out, followed by the third.

Wanda wrapped her arms around her hero’s arm. ‘That was magnificent,’ she told him.

Lucinda, Martha and Kitty all added their praise, but it was Wanda who got to hold him close. Under his sleeve, his arm was massive and unyielding.

The maître d’ bustled up to their table. ‘I am so sorry, Mr Chandler. I had no idea they were already drunk before they came in. I’ll ban them from the premises, of course.’

‘Not your fault,’ Henry assured him. ‘Better clear their table and take care of the broken glass, right?’

‘Of course! Immediately!’ He hustled away.

Wanda said, ‘The least he could have done after that incident is comp you our meals, Henry.’

Martha laughed. ‘He couldn’t very well do that, you silly girl. Henry owns this restaurant. He won’t be given a bill.’

Henry fixed Wanda’s mother with a look that Wanda hoped would never be aimed at her. ‘Martha, unless someone had told her, how could Wanda be expected to know that? In other circumstances, she’d be absolutely right. It would have been totally appropriate.’

Martha looked down, blushing. She mumbled something that might have been an apology to Wanda.

What a man! He tackles hooligans without blinking and he defends her against her mother, a much more courageous feat. How could a girl not love a man like that? And, as for doubting his masculinity, how utterly ridiculous that was!

Chapter Five

After brunch, Henry had a meeting. Martha and Lucinda decided to take in some art galleries, or so they said, between giggles. Wanda had her suspicions. Kitty was at a loose end and obviously hinting, so Wanda asked her if she’d like to help her shop for Western gear, for the upcoming long weekend. It turned out that Henry’s childhood friend knew exactly where to shop for stretch-fit jeans and denim short-shorts, plus a couple each of clinging micro- and hobbling-tight maxi-skirts that she promised would ‘drive him crazy with lust’ when combined with check shirts that tied to leave her midriff bare and high-heeled Western boots.

‘How does Henry look when he’s “driven crazy with lust”?’ Wanda asked Kitty, nervous about the answer.

‘You’ll see,’ was the calm reply. ‘He doesn’t go all red and slobbering, like some men, but you’ll see it in his eyes, if you haven’t already.’

‘So you’ve seen what he looks like “in heat”?’ Wanda asked.

Kitty slapped Wanda’s rear. ‘No need to be jealous, Wanda. He and I have double dated, not as a couple but as the other halves of other couples, if you get me.’

Wanda nodded, unsure.

‘You didn’t think he was a virgin, did you?’

‘Of course not.’

‘And nor are you, right? Sauce for the goose, as they say. Anyway, not to worry. I’ve seen him look at you in ways I’ve never seen him look at any other woman. I could almost envy you.’

‘Why don’t you?’

‘He’s my cousin, silly!’

‘You two wouldn’t be the first cousins …’

‘Nor the last. Let’s change the subject. Do you have your trousseau picked out, yet? I’m sure that there’s lots left on that credit card.’

So they shopped for undies that Wanda was going to have to hide from her mom, though, once she and Henry were married, it’d only be his approval she’d have to worry about. Wanda treated Kitty to a couple of things, mainly because the girl didn’t so much as hint that she expected it.

She found that she warmed to Kitty, even though …

She blurted, ‘My mom seems to think that Henry is very conservative in his ways. Is that true?’

Kitty pondered. ‘In some ways. You don’t know him that well, do you?’

‘No. It’s been kind of a whirlwind courtship. We haven’t had a lot of time alone together yet.’

‘All the more fun exploring each other’s little ways once you’re married, then.’

‘I hope so. I really hope so.’

‘Cheer up. Time for a cocktail before you have to go home?’

‘As I’m out without my mom for a change, I’ve time for two!’

Wanda felt sure that the slightest hint from her would have had them in bed together that very afternoon, but that, no matter how tempting, would make her life far too complicated. Still, if her worst fears about Henry proved correct, Kitty would make a lovely consolation prize. Henry had proved his masculinity but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t the stuffed shirt that her mom seemed convinced he was.

When she got back to the apartment she shared with her mother, her mom’d had at least a couple of cocktails herself, so Wanda was able to smuggle her secret purchases up to her bedroom. Let sleeping moms lie. There was a huge carton sitting on her bed. Wanda loved presents. She tore the box apart like a lion tears at an antelope, or, it occurred to her, like a very horny woman tears the pants off her lover.

She uncovered a giant teddy bear. It stood tall enough to come up to her nipples when its hind paws were on the floor. There was no doubt that it was a female bear. Its silky plush fur was pink. It had upswept eyelashes that were a good two inches long, a pink bow on top of its head and a tiny pink tongue that poked out between its ursine lips.

It couldn’t have a male name, so it wasn’t ‘Teddy’. Wanda decided that she’d call it ‘Edwina’, which she’d then abbreviate to ‘Teddy’. Obviously, it was not only female, it was also a lesbian bear. That’d be much more fun.

Wanda went downstairs to check on her mom. She was still asleep on the couch with a silly grin on her face. Wanda covered her with a throw, had a quick goodnight gin and tonic, and went back up to shower.

With her mom fast asleep downstairs, it was OK for Wanda to leave the bathroom naked, still towelling herself dry. One day, she hoped, she’d do the same in front of Henry. And he’d approve heartily. Of course he would. For him, she’d dance with her towel serving as a fan-dancer’s fan, or she’d even prance like a pony, like this … She high-stepped, pointing her toes, twirling and skipping to amuse her husband, her lover, her friend.

Oops! She was fantasising again, but this time about Henry. That was new. Did it mean that she was making progress? She’d have to ask Dr Sullivan when she saw him.

Edwina, ‘Teddy’, was waiting in Wanda’s bedroom, sitting up in the old rocking chair. Wanda bowed with a flourish, flinging her towel aside.

‘Lovely body!’ the bear told her in a deep but certainly feminine contralto.

‘Thank you, Teddy. I only have one bed, I’m afraid. Do you mind if we share? No? Come on, then. Oh – and I don’t have any nightclothes that would fit you, Teddy, my dear. Still, it’s just us girls, so that’s all right.

Wanda’s was a double bed but Teddy was quite bulky so they had to snuggle close, face-to-face. Wanda said, ‘Goodnight, Teddy,’ and pecked her bear on the lips. That, of course, poked the animal’s tiny pink tongue between Wanda’s lips. She’d assumed it was made of some sort of fabric but it didn’t feel at all like cloth. It felt like some sort of rubbery material, complete with a texture that mimicked taste buds.

Hm.

Wanda kissed again, a little sucking kiss. Teddy groaned appreciatively. Unfortunately, the way her toy had been made, really deep kisses weren’t possible, but tongue-tip to tongue-tip was nice, in a teasing sort of way. Wanda snuggled in closer. Teddy’s left leg flopped up over Wanda’s right leg. A furry right leg insinuated itself between Wanda’s smooth thighs. Plush tickled Wanda’s tummy. She wriggled, drawing her bear in even closer. Furry pubes pressed against peach-fuzz ones. Wanda gave a little bump. Teddy, perhaps helped by Wanda’s hand on her rump, pushed back.

This wasn’t a fantasy, Wanda reminded herself, apart from the way she interpreted the bear’s growls. This was, however, being honest, masturbation, using an inanimate object. Women used vibrators. That wasn’t considered aberrant anymore. Even so, Wanda suspected that fucking teddy bears was still considered a bit kinky, at the least. Never mind. Dr Sullivan would sort the pros and cons out for her.

Teddy growled.

‘Sorry, I was distracted.’ Wanda sucked Teddy’s little tongue and ground her hips hard against her new lover.

Tongue? Wanda experimented by pulling Teddy’s head down to her breast and rubbing that rubbery nub on her nipple. It felt nice, and when Wanda pushed Teddy’s head back, her legs slid further between Wanda’s. Wanda pressed the bear’s shoulders away and wriggled down even harder. The animal’s right leg came right up to divide Wanda’s breasts. Her left leg stuck up along Wanda’s back. Wanda reached behind herself to grab a hind paw. Her other hand took hold of the other furry ankle. When Wanda pulled up on the front leg, then tugged the back one, bear-pubes sawed on Wanda’s pussy, squishing its lips and grinding on her clit. See-saw. See-saw. There was no penetration but the friction was certainly … interesting. Very interesting. Very, very interesting.

Climactically interesting.

OK, so it wasn’t spectacular, but it was a different way to get off. That had to count for something. Perhaps that nice little orgasm would protect her from her fantasies for a while? Whatever, her sleep that night was dreamless.