The closet Queen

Cheryl Wallace slipped off of her bed as soon as she heard her roommate's voice in the hallway. There was another whispering voice, that of a male. That was Abby, breaking the sorority rules by sneaking a man to her room late at night. The free mixing of the sexes was tolerated by the university in the dormitories, but the Delta Rho Sigraa Sorority did not tolerate it. It was just like the redhead from Chicago to risk breaking rules. In fact, it was Abby's wildness that had brought Cheryl here to Brighton University in the Midwest, changing her lifestyle and almost ruining Cheryl's father.
Right now Cheryl had one goal in life: to undo the damage that her roommate had done.
From the bed Cheryl slipped to the closet and inside to hide. Tonight Abby wore the necklace that Cheryl had to steal back from her to solve the Wallace family problems. With luck, Cheryl would get that necklace tonight, fly back to New York, then end her miserable existence at Brighton and the Delta Rho house.
Cheryl left a crack of the closet door open so she could survey the room. Everything looked quite normal, the bedside lamp on Abby's side of the room illuminating her messy domain and another on the beside of Cheryl's bed, showing Cheryl's neat living space. The door opened to admit Abby and her date of the evening. Cheryl gave the young man only a glance. He was Tom Something-or-other from one of the fraternities. He was a handsome blonde with a great body, but Cheryl had her mind on other matters.
The necklace glittered in the soft light around Abby's graceful white throat. It was garish, an interlacing of red and blue gems with a yellow jewel pendant in the middle. It was of poor design with gold settings, so the riot of color made it primitive, sensual and too gaudy. Obviously it was camp costume jewelry-until you really looked at it and were puzzled by the powerful glow of the gems. They were all real, rubies, sapphires and a yellow diamond in the middle. It was important enough to have its own name "The Gypsy". It had been designed for an Arabian oil minister who had tired of being chided about it and had sold it. It was worth three hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
Abby didn't know that. Nobody around here did. Abby thought it was worth about twenty thousand and, even so, had her Chicago boy-friend steal it from Cheryl's father.
Abby's graceful throat, her pure white skin, her beautiful face, stirred Cheryl deeply as always. Cheryl responded to Abby's voluptuous body in a secret leech. Up above was the long cascade of rich red hair, lovely blue eyes and a sensual, good-humored mouth that could curve into an innocent smile or quirk suggestively, Abby's breasts were perfectly round and high, a peasant's beauties, full and firm. Her hips were rich, her thighs and legs elegantly curved. Young men dug Abby and she dug them: she was a campus bombshell and a leader among the Delta Rho's. Other girls might approach her with equal charms, but her finely textured skin was incredible.
Cheryl felt her belly heat as she watched her roommate move. Tonight Abby had worn a satin blouse open almost to her navel to better display the Gypsy. Her dress slacks were lace-fringed and tight. She swayed sensually as she kidded Tom who was, of course, drooling.
"Just a goodnight kiss, lover, and then you leave," said Abby.
"Oh, God, I'm crazy for you, Abby-crazeee," murmured Tom, reaching for all those goodies.
Laughing, Abby swayed out of his reach.
"I've already broken house rules to let you come to my room. I thought my roomie would be back from her date to protect me. But she isn't, so you'll have to go.”
Tom made a lurch for her, but Abby spun away and at the same lime took off the necklace and tossed it negligently on her bureau. From the closet, Cheryl's hot eyes followed it. Then she held her breath; Abby started for the closet. Tom intercepted her. They stood not six feet away from Cheryl and her crack in the door as Tom took his first kiss. One of his hands kneaded Abby's magnificent breast as they clung together. Cheryl felt a hot spike of desire. Her own sex life was as messed up as Abby's side of the room. Cheryl had had sex in high school-enough to know how doomed she was. She could only have an orgasm with a man if she fantasized having sex with a woman-like Abby.
Cheryl was terribly ashamed of her hang-up. Imagine what a guy would think if he knew that when she came she had to think about female loins, twining and twisting. Worse, what would women think-especially Cheryl's sorority sisters-if they knew she had that problem? What would Abby think? My God, they'd call her a lesbian!
Cheryl had never had sex with a girl. It had all been with guys, but every time when she got hot enough to cum she had to fantasize her mouth fixed on some pretty girl's steaming cunt, or a long-haired female sucking her to glory.
Tom was a fast worker. Already he had a hand inside of Abby's bra. The big-breasted girl had to wear bras when her blouse was so open, but tonight it didn't stop Tom. He pushed up the bra and palmed the rich elegance of Abby's tit. Instead of stopping him, sexy Abby laughed a pleased laugh deep in her throat and shifted so he could get at that naked breast.
"I thought you were going to stop with a kiss only," Abby teased him.
"Oh, Abby!" breathed Tom.
Cheryl could see it all, Abby's naked breast gleaming erotically in the dim light, the big innocent center, and the flint tip of her nipple. What an exquisite breast. Cheryl felt her breath go short and slid her hand between her legs. Tom began to suck Abby's nipple, holding the weight of the gorgeous peak with his eager hand. Cheryl could imagine the fantastic hard-on he got from savoring that warm, naked breast, stroking that silken skin of Abby's. Cheryl's empty hand clutched in empathy. How terrific it would be to fondle that shapely sex object.
Cheryl felt light-headed in her sex rush. Why, she bet she could drive Abby to orgasm with her tongue, teeth and hands on those breasts. Men didn't know how to do it, but, wow! Cheryl's own breasts burned in excitement.
The lovers kissed again right in front of her, and she saw pink tongues twisting and the wet flash of honey saliva as open mouths teased and merged, Tom's hand again busy at Abby's breast. In a minute he was going to really start feeling Abby up and after that he had two beds to choose from, thought Cheryl. She thrilled up and down her spine. What if she got to actually see the boy and her roommate fucking? That would be wild. She dug her finger boldly into her cunt, reveling in the lascivious sight, her hand reaching her steaming clitoris. Her slacks would get wet, but it wouldn't be the first time in the past month that she'd whipped herself to fury and warmed her crotch with happy girl juice. Stuck in the sorority with Abby and the other good-looking sisters, she had to manage her lust as best she could. There was no point in having boyfriends. She didn't plan to be at Brighton that long.
It was such a shame. A sorority was the last place a girl with her hang-up ought to be, but she had to be here. Nor did she dare approach Abby or the other girls. Her father was a highly visible alumnus who sat on boards and knew the president. Imagine his shame if the daughter of prominent alumnus John B. Wallace were thrown out of Brighton for lesbian activities!
It was going to be one of those stormy kisses, Cheryl saw Tom's hand, temporarily sated with breast-fondling, slid down under Abby's rounded buttocks to dig for her cunt. Cheryl leaned back among the clothes, masturbating faster, twisting her pelvis for rich hand action. The wanton Abby did exactly the same thing for Tom, letting him stroke between her legs. Abby must be wild for sex. She'd told Cheryl she'd broken up with her Chicago boyfriend just before coming to Brighton in Iowa for the fall term. A girl like Abby, used to plenty of hot loving, could get horny in a month, believe it!
"Oh, honey, I could solve all your problems," murmured Cheryl softly in the closet as she thrilled to her masturbation, watching the lovers. At once she felt guilty. Dammit, she wasn't lesbian! It was just the exquisite girl's body…
Incredibly, Abby broke away from Tom.
"We can't do it tonight, Tom," she told him. "My roommate's due any second.”
"To hell with that." Tom's face flushed and his hard prick was obvious in his pants.
"Tush, tush," said Abby. "Cheryl's a weird one, Tom. Her father's a big time alumni-type around here. John B. Wallace of New York City.”
"New York's a long way off.”
"He flies here all the time. And I've got his daughter as a roommate. She's a big city square. She'll tell-and goodbye Deltas.”
"Abby, I'm crazy for you.”
"I dig you, too, Tom, but there's my father, besides. He's an alumnus and he knows old Wallace. He'll jerk me out of here and it's goodbye college for me.”
"So why did you pick this turkey for a roomie?”
"I didn't." Abby went on to explain that she'd never laid eyes on Cheryl until a month ago. Cheryl lived in New York, Abby in Chicago. But the fathers, as Brighton graduates, knew each other through the years. So the Deltas pledged Cheryl and when Cheryl asked shyly if she could room with Abby, the chapter president insisted.
"Do you like this Cheryl?" asked Tom. He'd slumped on the bed, while Abby put away her goodies. Evidently he liked Abby too much to push against her will.
"Don't like her, don't hate her," shrugged Abby. "She's got a body that won't stop, though. If she ever takes off in sex-watch out!… Now then, Tom, back to the Sigma house with you.”
Tom let her push him out of the room. "There may be a surprise wakeup breakfast over here from the Sigmas tomorrow," he grinned. "Maybe I'll catch you in bed, honey.”
"Maybe you will," said Abby. She closed the door on Tom and leaned against it.
Cheryl had drunk in all the information as her masturbating hand slowed and stopped. She felt sorry that the action was over. But it was great to know that Abby thought she had a sexy body! Her cunt still glowed, swollen and wet. I dig you, too, Abby, she thought.
But there was to be no surcease of the sex action after all. To Cheryl's surprise, Abby locked the door, stripped off her blouse and bra and reached for something under the bed. She rolled out an ordinary soccer ball. Cheryl recognized it from the black and white panels. Abby stepped carefully out of her clothes, clad now only in sexy nylon panties. She sat down squarely on the soccer ball, long thighs stretched out and began to rock the ball tight against her crotch. At the same time she cupped her breasts and kneaded them, moaning.
"Oh, Allen, Allen, if you were only here, lover! I need you. I need sex.”
Cheryl almost died. She'd never seen anything as sexy as Abby getting it off on that soccer ball. No wonder the sport was popular with girls these days! There was the luscious Abby, naked practically, and hot for sex, and here she was just as high and hot. Yet Cheryl dared not reveal herself. She'd waited a month for Abby to pull that damnable necklace out of hiding and there it was, almost forgotten on Abby's dressing table. If she came out of the closet now there'd be too many questions.”
Lips parted, face flushed in excitement, Cheryl stayed in the closet, working her cunt again, thrilling to the deep, new rushes of sexuality as her roommate a few feet away likewise moaned in bitch pleasure as she rocked on the ball and palmed her breasts, long red hair flowing, lips parted arid gleaming, face dreamy with hot bodily desires.
Cheryl trembled in her hunger for contact with the lovely vision before her eyes, that fine skin softly gleaming, those long, naked thighs working soft, sexy muscles as the girl immolated her cunt and crooned out her deep sex needs.
In about ten seconds, Cheryl knew, she was going to burst out of the closet and fling herself on the near-naked girl. The only thing that saved her was her rising rush to orgasm. Abby's weird form of masturbation turned her on like mad. Abby's exposure of all that nude flesh was just too much. She'd seen flashes before, but never so much and never when Abby was sexed up. Cheryl felt faint and femininely powerful at the same time. Crazy hot flashes of pleasure consumed her, paralyzing her thighs, her buttocks, her belly and breasts. She felt tight and swollen and open and aching at the same time. She felt like queen of the world as she gave herself over to orgasm, the exquisite freeze and then the relieving cunt throbs. She had to surrender soft cries of wonder, mercifully covered because Abby's own fires blazed at the same time. Abby gave a strangled cry of intense pleasure and gave up to spasms.
"Ah, ehhhhh, ah, ah, ah," she crooned. There they were, two beautiful young women getting it off, burning out their passions… but not with men, not even with each other, although they were roommates. As Cheryl subsided into the glow of after sex, tears misted her eyes. That cursed necklace and her father's stupidity on his Chicago trip to give Abby's crazy boyfriend a chance to steal it, added up to this impossible situation.
Abby finished her orgasm with winsome sighs, rose, pushed the ball back under her bed and put on a robe, but not before Cheryl, in the closet, saw the thrilling evidence of Abby's deep sexuality, those stained panties that told of Abby's lubricity… Abby went on into the bathroom.
Now!
Cheryl almost leaped from the closet and scooped up the necklace. She felt the high thrill of success as she held it in her hands, hard, glittering in a thousand shards of color, breathtaking in its beauty, despite its garishness. Cheryl, like her father, appreciated good jewelry. She let out a huge sigh of relief. Ever since summer, this gorgeous piece of jewelry had corrupted her life and her father's.
"The company won't accept the fact I lost the Gypsy," her father had told her in August.
"They think you connived with the thief?" she asked, incredulous. Her father was an officer in a top New York jewelry firm. His honesty was beyond question.
"They thought my story was weak," he said. "It's true. I took the Gypsy to Chicago to sell to my old college buddy, Harry Windsor. He was on vacation; Harry was always careless about appointments. Only his daughter was in their big house. Foolishly, I told the girl that I had it; where I stayed. Her young boyfriend was there-a young ruffian named Alien. He and a buddy were the masked men that stole it from me later. He was poor; he thought it a great stroke to give it to the daughter, Abby, for nothing.”
"But-but-" Cheryl sputtered.
"Oh, I argued with the girl, begged with her. But I couldn't go to the police, not while I had a chance to talk her out of it.”
She understood that. Harry Windsor, old college friend and rich Chicago merchant, was John Wallace's best customer and a Brighton University trustee. There was too much to lose through police action.
"The company gave me three months to get it back," said John. "I know we can… if you'll only go to Brighton, register, make friends with the girl.”
Cheryl stormed and wept and pled with him over that. Her big dream was to go to Vassar, not some stupid Midwestern university like Brighton.
"You promised me, over the years," Cheryl wailed. "I have everything but my room assignment at Poughkeepsie. I can't go to Brighton!”
"Only for a semester, till this is settled.”
"No, I won't… ”
But she had to. The company suspended her father with no salary. All of a sudden, money was tight. Wallace had never saved much money. With his wife long dead, his passions had been his only daughter Cheryl and donations to Brighton. Cheryl sometimes thought he was almost glad he could force her to go to his alma mater instead of Vassar. Maybe he could've tried harder to get back the Gypsy if Abby had not already been a student at Brighton. He liked the idea of Cheryl coming here.
Well, Cheryl meant to go to Vassar, not Brighton, and with the necklace recovered there was no way to stop her. She'd fly to New York this weekend-maybe tomorrow!-give the Gypsy to her father and he could return it to the company and resume his job. She'd drop out of Brighton and go to Vassar next term. She'd always hated her father's simple-minded attachment to the Midwestern university when he lived in New York. Vassar was the school that would open doors to Cheryl in the future, not Brighton University.
She heard a movement in the bathroom and scurried out into the hall. She'd have to be careful that Abby didn't steal the necklace back. Or denounce her. Now there was a new danger, voices of other girls coming up the stairs to their rooms on the upper floors. It wouldn't do for them to see her with the Gypsy. But where could she hide it in her neat side of the room? Outside her room would be better.
Her eyes fell on Salt and Pepper. Salt and Pepper were two wood figurines that had graced the ancient dark wood table in the third floor hall for thirty or forty years. One figurine was the head and shoulders of a woman made of blonde wood. That was Salt. The other was the small statuette of a man made of darker wood. That was Pepper.
They were part and parcel of the Delta tradition, but no big deal. The artist, some forgotten Delta girl of the Thirties or Forties, had not been very good. So they sat there through the years and the generations of girls tolerated them like you kept around a beat-up old keepsake at home even if it were ugly.
They were about twelve inches high and from the distance looked a little like salt and pepper shakers, thus the name.
Cheryl upended Salt and saw that the figurine was hollow. Quickly she fed the necklace into the interior. She jammed it in, nice and tight so that it wouldn't fall out. By the time the chattering girls reached her level she was empty-handed, smiling politely, and Salt was back in her accustomed place. If the figurine hadn't been touched in thirty years, it ought to be safe for another night or two. Cheryl hugged herself with delight. Perfect! Now if Abby missed the Gypsy, she had only to deny any knowledge and they could search her room and her person forever… not that she expected Abby to make a public fuss. After all, Abby had stolen it to begin with.
As Cheryl stepped back into her room as if just coming in for the first time, she began to bubble with good feeling. For the first time since coming to Brighton she felt really great.
"Hello, roomie, did you have a great date?" she asked Abby, who emerged from the bathroom combing her long silken red hair.
"Fair, only fair," said Abby. "How was your evening?”
Cheryl not only felt good; she felt aggressive toward Abby, now that she'd pulled the plug on the girl's power over her and her father.
"Interesting. I saw a film classic as a part of my Film Appreciation course. It had a wild scene in it, a girl masturbating herself on a soccer ball. Talk about crazy.”
She thrilled to the pretty blush that rose in Abby's cheeks. "That-was crazy-" murmured Abby.
Cheryl pressed on. "I thought I might try it myself sometime. I thought I saw a soccer ball around our room somewhere. Or did I imagine it?”
"I-think there's one around." Abby sat on Cheryl's bed and stared at her. "It must've really turned you on. Your pants are wet.”
For a second Cheryl felt embarrassed confusion. She'd forgotten all about her hot time in the closet, which had left its own stain on her tight slacks, almost dry now, but still damning evidence.
Still she felt too good to be brought down by that crack. She was still high from the masturbation and further exalted by getting back the Gypsy. Now was the time to push Abby a little, to get her mind off things like necklaces. "I'm all sticky; I could use a shower," she said airily. "Are you through in the bath?”
Abby seemed to sense something odd and different in Cheryl's mood. "I was going to shower myself," she said. She sounded almost sullen.
It was great to see her roommate as an equal, not an upperclassman to be kowtowed to as Cheryl had felt she had to do up until now.
She marched up to Abby and took her by the arm. "We can both shower at once," she said lightly. "I always hate to do my back, and none of these gadgets work.”
She didn't really expect Abby to shower with her; she just wanted the victory of scaring the glamorous redhead a little. But Abby got up obediently and let herself be walked into the bathroom, almost trotting alongside Cheryl.
“I always thought you were… nervous about being seen na-undressed," said Abby.
"Oh, I like naked females," answered Cheryl, her demons pushing her. "I like my own body and other girls." She knew she blushed, but kept on. Somehow she had to shock the girl who thought her stodgy. "Kind of dangerous in a sorority, huh?”
She threw her arm about Abby's shoulders and the two roommates faced each other in the bathroom mirror. In her bubbly mood, Cheryl thought Abby looked absolutely ravishing and she looked good, too. They were a couple of really hot looking "broads" when you came down to it.
"Oh, it's all right to appreciate another woman's body, if you don't touch," said Abby. Her blue eyes gleamed softly.
Cheryl felt the warm contact of Abby's body and became aware of a subtle, insistent rising sexuality. Her masturbation had not satisfied her; it had only turned her on. She would have to be very careful. It was one thing to have lesbian fantasies while a boy made love to her. It was quite another to touch, to seduce forbidden flesh. Yet the heat in her loins rose and her face felt moist. She still wanted some kind of victory over Abby, who was a year older, at twenty, and an upperclassman, while she was only a freshman.
Heart thudding in her chest and hands trembling, she undid her blouse and took it off.
"I don't have to worry about being seen nude," said Cheryl. "I'm not that good looking.”
"That's a lie!" said Abby, feeding her the compliment she wanted. "You're about the best-looking girl in the Deltas. Look at that long shining hair. Like rippling wheat, as they say. I envy blondes.”
Cheryl blushed and shook down her long mane of glory. "I know I've got pretty good hair."
"Your face, fabulous," Abby went on. "Those big green eyes and that golden skin. Mine's too white, too fine. You have a kind of beauty gleam, and a perky nose, better than mine. Full lips too, but not too thick. Mine just barely make it, I hate thin-lipped people.”
"Me, too," Cheryl glowed, studying her face and trying to see it as Abby did. Maybe it wasn't too bad. In fact it was pretty good, as Abby said.
Excited, Cheryl slipped out of her half-bra and exposed her breasts, kneading them in the sweet release from their confinement.
"Those breasts are the best I ever saw!" cried Abby.
"Oh, come on. You've got a pair that would shame a movie star.”
"Mine are round," said Abby. "They're okay. Yours are more cone like so they stick out farther. Shaped just right. Deeper, not a bit of sag.”
To prove her point she pulled her robe open to expose her own breasts. Both girls stared at each other's beauties in the mirror. Somehow it was okay, if they looked at both pairs at once. What Abby said was true. Hers were rounded, classical, full. Cheryl's were deeper, with a better cleavage. Cheryl was taller by an inch, but the taper of her torso was no less elegant than Abby's and her golden skin looked as good as Abby's white, fine-textured counterpart. Both girls had deep indentations to enhance the flatness of young, nubile bellies.
Cheryl felt light-headed. She felt a compelling, burning heat to explore the dangerous, unknown world that played so often in her fantasies. Her cunt flowed in her pants again and her breath became short. Best of all was that incredible, delightful sensation of sexual anticipation. Here was a chance-maybe the only chance of a lifetime-to touch another woman sexually.
Yet it was a tremendous risk. Abby might scream and run. Bring the whole house down around them with hoarse accusations. Cheryl would kill herself if something like that happened; the shame would be too great.
She hesitated-and saw the incredible, tight lock of Abby's nipples. There was a sheen of moisture on the redhead's face, and her eyes looked a little dazed as she drank in Cheryl's half-nude body. There was a fast pulse in the graceful throat. Why, Abby was as sexed up as she was, frustrated by the loss of her boyfriend, by that necking with Tom and the masturbation with the soccer ball.
Unable to speak, Cheryl put her hands on Abby's shoulders and turned the girl to face her. Those blue eyes remained dazed, as if Cheryl had cast some magic spell on the redhead. Abby's robe fell open. Cheryl leaned forward, bringing her naked breasts closer and closer to Abby's naked breasts. Closer… closer.
The only sound in the room was the harsh breathing of the two fascinated girls. Cheryl’s nipples were extremely hot and sensitive, already sending sex flashes clear down into her legs. They locked to such tight peaks they ached a little.
She pressed her breasts against Abby's breasts, her nipples digging into the cream-textured skin, just above Abby's nipples. There was a shock of delight and an instant flow of heightened desire as Cheryl's nipples dug into Abby's smooth flesh and at the same time Cheryl felt Abby's flint hard nipples press insistently into her flesh. Abby gave a deep gasp of pleasure.
Cheryl slid her hands under the robe to Abby's young back and held her lightly as they gently, firmly rubbed nude breasts together, feeling the intense white hot sexuality of the moment.
Then Cheryl brought one hand back to begin a long, teasing slide down Abby's silken belly towards her cunt. She wanted to sob in her sex tension. When she touched Abby's cunt, she was committed for sure. She could talk her way out of the breast play. Once she sank her fingers between Abby's legs, she'd committed a gross, unmistakable lesbian attack that would not bear excusing.
Yet she couldn't stop her hand from sliding down, down… down…

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