Outing of the Heart by Lisa Ann Harper

bottle. ‘Follow me.’ she commanded.
Moving in Devon’s wake into the bedroom, she saw that unlike the other room it was sparsely furnished, basically a bed and a bedside table; the closet a walk-in, with built-in dressing table and mirror at the far end. Her pulse quickened as they moved together and stood, side by side, inspecting the garments on the rack. Devon was right. She had a hell of a lot. Pulling hanger after hanger off the rail, Devon continued until her arms were full, then flung them onto the bed saying: ‘There, sort through that lot,’ then dumped herself on the floor, glass in hand, content to watch Tenille make her selections.
She held the first skirt up against her and looked in the sliding mirrors of the closet doors.
‘That’s no good,’ Devon commented. ‘Try it on properly.’
She didn’t want to undress in front of her, feeling too self-conscious; too on show before a stranger’s eyes. But there was no way out. She stripped down to her lingerie. Fortunately she’d chosen lacy, black briefs. They looked pretty, but were rather high cut. She hoped they didn’t show pubic hair, but she dared not look down to check and call attention to herself.
Devon could feel the insistence of her arousal as Tenille began to peel off the layers and her teeth clenched. The legs were long and tanned; very shapely. Her eyes took in the curve of cheek revealed by the skimpy panties. The bottom was athletically round and full; the stomach firm and flat. She wanted to see more.
‘Look, put this top on. You can’t get an idea with that shirt. It’s totally wrong for flamenco.’ She selected a silver lame fabric. It was tight on her, so she knew that on Tenille it wouldn’t do much for a cover up. She smiled to herself as she handed it over.
Tenille had to strip down to her bra, so contrived to turn her back to Devon, as she removed the shell and unbuttoned her shirt. Devon perched herself on the bed, next to the clothing; this way she could make her own choice.
Tenille was horrified when she pulled the top over her bosom. It felt like she’d poured herself into a second skin, her breasts spilling over the top and out the sides. Startled, she turned to Devon saying: ‘I think this is too small for me, do you have something else?’ Devon noticed her face was delectably flushed as she made the request.
‘Sorry ’bout that. The tops are all my size. Not to worry,’ she continued casually: ‘It’s only for the general effect, you don’t have to dance as well.’ A deep chuckle erupted from her throat and split her mouth into a broad grin. Tenille didn’t feel like laughing. She loved being with Devon, but right now felt too uncomfortable. Well, best get it over and done, she was only trying to help her. She picked up the same skirt and dropped it down to the floor to make a delicate entry. If she turned her back then her bottom was facing Devon; if she stayed as she was, toward the bed, her breasts would be on full show. Compromise, side on. She needn’t have bothered working out a strategy, Devon made sure she saw everything. The session continued, checking the effect in the mirror, asking Devon for her opinion; Devon keeping her trying on skirt after skirt.
‘Come here, you’ve got the band twisted.’ She approached the bed. With Devon seated and she standing in front of her, Devon’s mouth was right at the level of her breasts. She could feel her nipples harden at the thought of Devon licking them. Devon saw the tender brown buds become erect through the thin covering and felt her own respond. She put her hands on Tenille’s waist and felt her body stiffen at her touch.
‘Goodness, you are jumpy,’ she observed, wickedly. She knew what she was doing to this woman and loved it. This was what she got off on. With each strip tease she could feel her wetness building. God, how she