Tasting (By Tappy Tippy) : Part 2

There are few words to describe the smell of sesame oil. And I don’t have them…

It would be tough to, especially as the seductive perfume of rose essence in oil wafted in. The fragrance from the French Vanilla candle and the Ylang Ylang oil floating over a burning tea-light in a corner added to the bouquet of notes. As I laid down in white satin panties, and a white cotton towel wrapped over me, the smorgasbord of the various essences mingled in the dim light built the anticipation of what was to come.

Ten minutes ago, Neha had opened the door dressed in comfy white linen pants, a workmanlike shirt and with her hair tied back in a pony tail. She ushered me into her spartan studio saying little and drew me into a dimly lit room. A small glass of fresh orange juice thrust into my hands, she said assertively with a smile. “Just your panties and lie under the towel. Please!”

A warm towel slowly ambushed my feet—cleansing my toes in circular movements. Kneeling by my side, Neha spread the sesame oil warmed by her hands over my right leg. Stroking my legs from the inner thigh to my calves in a circular fashion, her soft palm was edging my unease out. Her palm followed each other in an easy move as her palms moulded the contours of my legs… Her touch was warm and her steady hands felt smoother than satin.

‘Too late in the day to feel self conscious of all the jiggles and the extra flab,’I thought to myself.
‘Should have thought of all the practical, mundane realities when I lost the bet!’

The bet was one I made in bravado.

We had been online friends for a year –me in Mumbai and her in Chicago. We chatted in the middle of the night, separated by continents and time zones. The bet was fairly simple: I had to spot Neha at our favourite store The Good Earth in five minutes of me walking in.

Given the store wasn’t usually crowded and I had seen a picture of her eyes on her Facebook profile – how difficult could it be, I had thought to myself!

“Are you sure?” she asked in the chat window. “I look very different from my pictures. Do you want any clues? Me to carry a red rose?”
“Find you, I will!”
“And if you don’t? Then, a punishment I like!”
“And if I win, you have to cook me fish curry and rice. Just like your mom taught you.”
“And you can’t use your journalistic skills and influence with the store manager to find out where I am!”

Two weeks later, as I weaved through Good Earth’s large expanse, I couldn’t figure Neha around… The store was crowded with Diwali shoppers. Was it the woman in the blue dress? Was it the lady in slouchy linen pants? Asking wasn’t an option… and as the five minutes passed… I felt myself being squelched in a hug… As I turned around, my jaw dropped.

Neha was dressed in a blue brocade blouse and a sari to match. Her silky black hair was tamed in a high ponytail and her silver nose-ring glistened against her dusky complexion. Dark blue kohl complimented the brocade blouse and the gloss on her lips! She took my breath away.

She giggled… “Not quite what you were expecting? I knew you wouldn’t expect me to dress up in a sari! And here I chose our favourite coloured sari knowing how we both love a sari… just to give you a clue! I knew I would win… You have to pay my penalty! ” She ended wagging her finger at me.

Despite a year of talking to her, I was suddenly tongue tied. I recovered enough to direct her to the wooden table at the Tasting Café for a cup of latte – another something we shared in common, ordered cookies with it. The conversation free-flowed as we spoke of pursuits we shared – pottery, learning Spanish, the latest Paulo Coelho we read, her parents, siblings and common friends we shared. We traded notes, exchanged gossip and caught up with news on good friends.

She said, “Whew! I was worried I’d lose my bet! Had to think of something smart.”
“Hmm, looks like you spent some time planning this!?”
“I had to. Given we are both so competitive! So, get ready for the penalty. Be at my studio tomorrow by 7pm. Wear all white and comfy clothing…I have a surprise for you! See ya!”

And with that she was gone…

That night, I couldn’t sleep.  Her presence had pole-axed me. Can chemistry hit you like a blow in your stomach? I couldn’t stop thinking about her in a sari. Her beautiful black eyes. Her giggle. And the amount we argued in person… Was virtual better than reality? Was it possible to feel her presence like she was in the room!?

My BBM pinged immediately

‘Nah. Wondering what punishment you’ve had in mind. You’ve been fairly quiet. You are upto something.
I know you.’

There was silence at the other end.  I continued…

‘You know I’ve been busy every evening… off late. Your punishment has something to do with this.’

I ventured….

‘Am I meeting your girlfriend? ‘

This got her attention.

‘You suspicious chica? How can you even think that way?
find out tomorrow
See you at 7.
don’t you dare be late!
And wear white!’

Neha’s tantrums were legendary. Hence we spent the entire day in silence. Discretion in lesbian love is always the better part of valour.  And which is how I came to be lying on her futon next day at 7:15pm.

My muscles were responding to her touch – eager for more as she glided her palms with a feather light touch. Alternately squeezing my muscles and releasing them with a seductive motion, she was lightly moving her palms over me… Rotating her soft knuckles over my thighs, she worked a slow rhythm that had me begging for more. Rubbing, stroking, moving her hands over mine.

My back was next as she stroked the oil with her palm and began long strokes from my back upto the neck leaning into my body to exert pressure. Stroking my shoulders and moving over my arms…. She repeated the movement, till the sesame oil and the rose worked its aphrodisiacal magic.  The deep, rich, floral scent mingled as her hands ran diagonal strokes across my body, touching every pore intimately. Applying pressure with her surprisingly strong thumbs over my lower back to release the knots, she suddenly moved two of her fingers all over my back in an air brush, airy movement.

A few seconds later… Silence and whooshes of clothes being discarded. And then she decided to sit on my lower back, leaning into me… And I felt her aroused, cold nipples touching my back in a seductive massage as the warm oil trail covered her too… Throwing aside the towel covering me, she spooned me, covering every inch of my body. And then whispered my ear, “I spent many evenings learning how to give a massage so I could get Ms Prude to get Ms Naked on day 1. After all we have just 13 days together… You may now turn over.” Her words were followed with her hands making easy work of my panties.

I couldn’t help but reach out my trembling arms to hold her firm body…
And my mouth was on hers. Tasting.


About the author

Tappy Tippy

Late Bloomer, Coffee Drinker, French-Frier. Romance in her head. Erotica in her bones!