Sylvia’s birthday

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Sylvia’s birthdayThat was the easiest question in the world.”Do you know who Denise’s grandmother was?”No””Norma Shearer, that’s who, a huge star in the 1930s. Huge huge house in Brentwood.Denise lives in a little part of it, but the rest of this place is empty most of the time…her grandma was kinky, there is lots of cool rooms and cool stuff…””Judy, I’m getting horny now…there was a game we played where I was the cheap hooker who would do anything? I want to do that again…Okay, we had some kind of sex that night, I don’t remember, Judy and I fooled around a lot with girls and boys. like I said, we were both slutty and liked it, most of the time. But the idea of doing something at Denise’s “Hollywood Mansion” was still in the works. Denise, Barbara, Cole, Byron, Chris, and Judy were all kind of hinting at something special for my birthday, but they wouldn’t tell me exactly what or where. I’m not totally asleep about stuff, especially when it concerns me (MI MI MI MI) , my birthday, music, and a fancy house…and sex, yeah, sex…I knew that if Judy was involved with it, Sylvia’s boobs, pussy, ass, mouth, hands, and imagination would be too. I really didn’t know, but I was almost sixteen and horny, so I was happy to close my eyes and masturbate to the many possibilities before I went to sleep…sometimes, not as much as I wanted, f******n-year-old Rachel and I would make love before I went to sleep, and then I wouldn’t think about anything except being with her in the present moment. I was becoming more aware of how strange people percieved it if your sister was your lover, but mostly I didn’t give a crap about what people thought.I didn’t tell people, even those few who knew about Rachel, that Rachel and I had done it with mom, too. And Judy. And mom’s boyfriend.We ditched school early on the day of my birthday. We were riding through LA in Judy’s mom’s car, radio blasting, just being goofy and silly. After we had something to eat, and we got back in the car, Judy pulled a blindfold from her purse, a nice black one, edged with lace:”Sylvia put this on and keep it on till I tell you to take it off. We have kind of a special birthday party set up for you, love.”” Okay…..oooooh””Sylvia, this is personal, I know sometimes you like sex, well, baby, gosh, more than sometimes, and sometimes you like it with a little extra salsa mas caliente, si? So how are you feeling today? Don’t want to take you someplace you don’t want to go…”Here is the deal. I was in a strange place emotionally because after the crazy sex thing with mom, she wouldn’t talk to me about it. Not a word. Did I need to talk about it…an orgy with your mother? Now I was kind of in love with her like a lover, and mad at her like any sixteen year old is mad at their mom. I know you can’t understand it, I can’t understand it, nobody can. So my mom niğde escort bayan and I had fucked the same guy, the same girl, gone down on each other, both of us fucked my sister, her daughter, I had my face in her ass, she had her mouth on mine. Now she wouldn’t talk about it?A few weeks later, she took me to a club where she was singing, all dressed up in a gown with about two feet of cleavage. I was in a gown too, my big tits, that I basically hated, all on display like hers were. You know me, I love to show off but being dressed like that in front of all these grown men…wow. I had the body of a grown-up woman, but no way was I a grown-up. She had me get up on stage and sing with her. She does jazz, improvisational stuff, puts lyrics of her own to jazz soloes….vocalese…like Annie Ross or ….. I don’t know. It’s really a challenge. I’m an opera student, have been since I was six. All I have ever wanted to do is sing opera on stage, but that is a totally different approach than what mom did. For one thing, opera singers don’t improvise, we follow the score and libretto, like all the other musicians. She was singing and wailing to something by Charlie Parker, “Donna Lee”, I think, she wrote these impossible lyrics, and she ripped off an amazing solo, her whole vocal range in about ten measures and one hundred fifty impossible syllables, ending exactly on the beat, nodded to Cecil the drummer, her lover, who hit the accent just right on his high hat, got her applause, turned and handed the mike to me. I tried to do what she did, we had practiced a little. I knew my voice could handle it, but conceptually, it was way way beyond me. I fucked it up, on stage, then I got stage fright and fucked it up worse. The guys backing her up tried to rescue me, but it was bad. The people in the club, who had paid good money for the show, were not happy, didn’t think I was cute. didn’t applaud me for trying. mom was pissed, too. This is how she makes her living, and she is a real bitchy perfectionist about everything that happens on stage, even though she is taking huge risks every time she sings a note.So part of me felt like an ugly little whore who had shit on her mom’s parade and still couldn’t sing right, even though I had been working on it all my life.I hadn’t been with Judy for a week or so, no boys around to be my little sex toys, so I was in a frame of mind for anything to happen. Kind of hard to articulate all that when you are not quite sixteen, so I just said: “Sure, Judy, let’s have a party, you know what I like, I really need that.”Across town, all over, with my blindfold, Judy NOT SAYING A WORD.Finally. car stopped, out the door, Judy holding my hand, up some driveway, some walk, another path, another walk, stairs, more stairs…I’m in a house, a big one, I can tell it, smells that way, and the sound escort niğde of our feet feels that way …up still more stairs, down a hallway?When I came into the room:”Okay, Sylvia, walk in, but you have to keep the blindfold on. Feel that carpet under your toes…reach over here, Syl, feel.these sheets and these pillows….just stand there, love, we are going to get those clothes off…”I was dirty and sweaty. I had some old jeans and tennis shoes on, a horizontal striped top that made me look like a sleeping pregnant zebra…and six or ten or twelve or more sets of hands were on me, unbuttoning, unsnapping, sliding up, pulling down…I could smell the scented bath, all these perfume scents, marijuana,…I was being kissed all over, not super sexy kisses, but still…and massages to my shoulders and neck….somebody said “neck” and I bent my head forward and down and there were kisses landing on the back on my neck, hitting my sexy spot there just right and hands gently rubbing the bottom seam of my butt cheeks…”Okay, baby:” Somebody took the blindfold off.Denise had a huge bedroom, an enormous bed that must have designed for orgies, a bathroom of her own like some kind of Greek temple. There was a bed in the room, and though it was huge, it only took up a little of the space in the room. The bed had red satin sheets and pillowcases. It was the heaviest satin I had ever seen or touched in my life. All of it, sheets, pillows, was monogrammed in florid script “NS”I was looking at it. Judy said:”I think that is for Norma Shearer. She was a huge Hollywood star in the thirties, married to the producer Irving Thalberg…and quite kinky, by Hollywood legend, though it seems as if they all were….””Let’s have a bath before we get your make-up and gown on…would you like that? Have a little puff, relax, Syl, this is going to be nice…”I like to use a tub instead of a shower. This bathroom was so fancy, so opulent, a huge malachite green tub that must have been carved from one block of stone, gold plated spouts and faucets. The tub had jets, installed, Denise told me, in the 1930s, when the rest of the world didn’t know they existed. The toilet was made from the same rock as the bathtub, and the seat looked as if it were from some fancy wood usually used for guitars, rosewood maybe, but it was so dark and heavy, I think it was ebony…the floor was a beautiful tile pattern, Denise called it “tessellated”, a shade of green to match everything else. In the center, worked into the tiles, a huge “NS” design, for the owner of this palace, in case she forgot who she was while having a royal poop, I thought.They had the tub prepared for me with bath salts and everything else…I expected Norma to come home, see me splashing around in her tub, and promptly clap her hands to have the servants throw my ass out on the sidewalk…but niğde escort I climbed in, it felt so delicious, it smelled so lovely and it was exactly the right temperature? How did she know that I like my bath really hot? Someone was washing and rinsing my hair…Judy had a huge Greek sponge, and she was using to gently wash the daily grime from my skin, with the touch of a lover, which of course, she was. She washed my bottom; she wanted to wash my lady parts, too, but despite everything you might have heard, there are some things that are so personal I prefer to do them myself, and sponging off the day’s accumulation of whatever from my coochie is one of them…but Judy is my lover, there is no part of my body she has not explored with tongue, fingers and her sweet words and imagination…and that’s what I was thinking as I finally climbed out, and she wrapped my body, all 4 foot eleven, 36 D boobs, in the biggest, warmest, heaviest towel I had ever been wrapped in, and hugged me to her body…I wasn’t sexually excited, too bad, because I could have had an orgasm right there, it felt so good.When I came out of the bathroom, all clean and perfumed, Barbara and Devon, one of the gay boys, sat me down on the stool in front of Desiree’s dressing table, her fabulous dressing table, with the little upholstered seat, facing mirrors, the blonde wood. and the perfume atomizers:”Holy Toledo,” I thought, and Judy was shaking her head “Nunca en mi Vida, mi cara…” and both Devon and Barbara, make-up experts par execellance, did my eye shadow, my mascara, eyeliner, my lipstick, covered the zit bumps on my cheeks…oh my god, all of it, and of course, my hair…I had dressed up before, but not quite like this. Devon kept trying to get me to keep my eyes closed until they were done.I tried, but I couldn’t quite manage to do it…I was able to have sex like a woman, but I was just sixteen, not quite a woman yet, so I kept peeking and admiring my beautiful self…beautiful, courtesy of about ten other skilled people, kind of like Norma herself, I’m sure…Devon handed me this elaborate atomizer and snapped me out of my dream:.”I’m sure you know how to use this,” he said in a bitchy tone… Years later when we got together, he said, he was so jealous and wished he was getting the beauty treatment instead of giving it to me.I stood up, quite naked, with my hair and make-up perfect, walked into her bedroom, separate from her make-up room, did a star turn to everyone’s applause.Denise excused herself and came back with three bottles of chilled champagne and what looked like hash in two beautiful inlaid wood boxes..”Sylvia, open your eyes. I know you want to put on a show, and I think I know what kind of show too, do you want to get dressed up for the show first? I can’t believe what we found at my cousin’s house, you know who she was, right? Edith Head? the woman who designed gowns for all the stars? My aunt, my cousin’s mother, was her chief seamstress, the woman who fitted the stars and designed the gowns, Edith just put her name on stuff by that time!

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