Lesbian First-Time Erotica
"Zambellina," an erotic story by Nikki Sinclair
The second bell brought Madam Corinthia Heisel to the door, somewhat out of breath. "I see you've brought your parasol," she said, taking Katie's umbrella and shaking it, getting them both wet. "How lovely you look in the rain. The professor will be down shortly. Let us retire to the conservatory where we can, ah, warm up."
The Madam wore an elaborate ruffled dress and amid its curious flutterings conveyed the young woman into a musical rotunda. Rain beaded on many windows, and a neglected garden glistened beyond. The room was dominated by a wide, black Steinway. "We just had it tuned." Madam Heisel confided, offering Katie a seat. "Such a handsome man. I was thinking, if only we could be...tuned. Wouldn't it be lovely?"
"Yes, Madam." Katie placed her method book on the piano.
"But where are my manners? We forgot to kiss." She pecked Katie's cheek. "Child!" she gushed. "You smell like a wet rose."
The girl sat quickly. "I'm afraid I haven't showered."
"How captivating!"
"Cora!" A voice, basso profundo, boomed from above. "Has my student arrived?"
The Madam ignored him. "Please do begin," she said. Katie placed her hands on the keyboard.
"But wait! I nearly forgot, I have a gift." A folio was retrieved from atop the piano and sheet music presented. Zambellina Overture, it read. Black notes rioted over the page.
"Thank you," the girl said politely. "But this is very advanced for me, Madam."
"How do you know until you try?"
"I only started this spring."
"All you need is passion." Her eyes drank the young woman in. "We're artistes, after all."
"Cora!" The house shook again with the Professor's voice. "Come here at once!"
"Oh, for god's sake." Madam Heisel said. "Give me but a moment, dearest." She bustled away. Katie sat alone at the piano, frowning at Zambellina, thinking it quite impossible. Surely the Madam confused her with another student.
Returning to the rotunda, Cora Heisel locked the doors. She made sure the doors were locked, shaking the handles. Then she bowed, cleared her throat, and announced, "May I present Madam Corinthia Heisel, l'Iinstitutrice du Jour."
Katie didn't understand.
"I'm your teacher, honey. The professor is, shall we say, occupied." She waved at Zambellina. "Proceed merci. And remember, with feeling."
"But Madam..."
"Passion! my child."
Katie placed her hands on the keys.
"Wait!" Madam Heisel cried. "You must know the story behind the opera. It will help you...perform." Corinthia Heisel stood behind the girl. She began reciting in a high, dramatic voice, gently stroking the young woman's shoulders.
"Zambellina is a lovely yet simple girl. One night, under a great moon, she dreams she is a boy. She cuts her dark hair and borrows her brother's clothes, and travels to Firenza. Courting the mayor's daughter, the ravishing Clea di Napoli, Zambellina wins her heart. There is a magnificent wedding. Yet Zambellina despairs, for that night, their wedding night, she must be exposed. No, she is not the wealthy Count Mezzopoulas, her dashing masquerade, but Zambellina, only Zambellina, a country girl, and very much a woman."
The Madam's hands ventured downward, lightly caressing Katie's arms. Fingers roamed along the sensitive sides of her breasts. Madam Heisel leaned close, her voice low, confiding: "Act Two, Scene One. The curtain rises on a grand bedroom. Zambellina enters and blindfolds Clea, then undresses the girl, a veil at a time, singing the famous aria, 'Is Love Forbidden?' She kisses Clea gently."
The Madam, quite taken with her story, spoke rapidly, her fingers moving lightly along Katie's breasts.
"Clea responds -this is her wedding night, remember- she responds to Zambellina's caresses, passionate thing she is...You understand these are young women, with unmet needs. Clea wears the blindfold so when ... of course she doesn't realize when...Wait...She takes Zambellina's hands and places them on her breasts, like this...and..." Cora Heisel exhaled. "My Goodness!"
"Are you okay?" Katie asked.
She removed her hands. "Of course, my dear. of course. Words can only explain so much. It must be experienced."
"Experienced?" Katie asked.
"The opera, I mean. But let us return to the piano." She seemed quite recovered. "Has the professor showed you the proper... breathing?" Cora Heisel placed her hands firmly below Katie's breasts.
The girl jumped. "Is breathing important?"
"Oh, yes." Madam Heisel said. "The piano is all about breathing."
"Really?"
"Really. Now, breathe in."
The Madam's hands moved higher. "And out.That's good. Can you feel it?"
"Oh, yes," Katie said. "Are you sure this is right?"
"Please, I am an expert. Breathe in." Her hands crept up. "...and out." Her hands inched higher still. "Breathe in."
Her hands covered Katie's breasts.
As she manipulated the girl Madam Heisel commented freely. "Breathe in...And out. Very good...you are doing very well... you have beautiful breasts...The boys must bother you a great deal... Your nipples are large and firm...breathe in."
Katie's toes curled. She loved having her breasts fondled. Desire flashed deep within, an erotic foreboding as dark as a gathering storm. Why hadn't she stopped her?
"Breathe in," Cora said, her fingers circling the younger woman's very erect nipples.
"Oh, Madam," pleaded Katie. "I can't keep up anymore."
"I understand, dearest. Perhaps we should move to the chaise, where we might continue more comfortably?" Katie allowed herself to be led from the piano. She well knew what the Madam intended, but seemed entirely unable to resist, as though a spell were cast. The two women sat on a low chaise lounge where rain dimpled the windows. Tiny hearts and flowers decorated the slip cover.
Katie felt her own heart beating.
Cora Heisel pushed the girl's tee shirt up. She did not resist. Then the Madam bent forward, carefully, kissing her breasts. She cupped them, raising them. Her tongue rolled over each nipple, around and around. Waves of pleasure ran through the girl. I must stop her, she kept thinking. I must stop her soon but...not...quite yet.
The Madam ran a finger between Katie's legs. The girl's breath caught in mid-gasp. Madam Heisel whispered in Katie's ear.
"Close your eyes."
"Yes, Madam."
She pulled at the girl's jeans. "Imagine you are a flower."
"Yes, Madam."
"Think of Zambellina. Would you break her heart?"
"No, Madam!"
She pulled down Katie's pants. Smooth legs emerged and then her jeans were off and on the floor. Her underwear came off, revealing a great, dark, tangled triangle. The older woman kissed the girl's knee. Then her lips touched Katie's thighs, tracing upward, upward.
"Lay back," she said, and Katie did so.
When she kissed the young woman's belly her back arched in expectation. Kissing, always kissing she moved down, burying her nose in Katie's wet, dark patch. The older woman inhaled as though it were some great chrysanthemum. Oh my god, Katie thought.
Her mind rained Yes's and No's. The college boys were fumbling, ignorant. This woman knew every tiny part of her, knew her body and what her body wanted. Oh, this isn't my fault, Katie thought. This isn't my fault!
Katie spread her legs. "Oh, my child," Cora Heisel murmured. Katie felt the woman's tongue. A bolt raced through her body. Her head swam.
Slowly, slowly and very lightly the Madam licked. The very point of her tongue traced up and down each side of Katie's glistening labia. Then her tongue found that secret place, the core of her dark flower, and at the perfect moment she gave it a long, spine-tingling lick. Katie gasped. The woman gently inserted her fingers, and she began licking away patiently, skillfully, licking lightly, ever so lightly. Then faster and faster still. Katie's stomach knotted. What's happening to me? She wondered.
Oh! What's happening?
A spasm of pleasure seized Katie and spread in waves. Her hips shook, sucking at the Madam's fingers. She gasped. Another dizzy spasm, and the raindrops in the windows burst into a thousand pinpoints of light. Gradually the waves slowed. Katie put her hands over her face, the thing fading in little rumbles, like a thunderclap.
Her first orgasm.
She opened her eyes and saw flowers in the garden outside, droplets beading and glittering in sunlight. The rain had ended. Sweetly, the Madam kissed her belly, kissed up to her breasts, leaving a dewy trail. Katie felt very naked. I've made a terrible mess of the slip cover, she thought. All those pretty hearts...
"Corinthia!" The voice thundered throughout the house. Both women jumped. "I know you're in there!" he shouted.
"Oh my god," Madam Heisel gasped. "It's the Professor!"
The rotunda doors rattled like snare drums. "Open these at once!"
"He's at the door. Quickly, dearest!" She threw Katie's panties at her.
"I've got keys," the professor said. "I'll show you!"
"He won't suspect you, but he mustn't see me."
"What should I do?" Katie asked, hopping as she pulled on her jeans. They heard the chime of keys.
"Play the piano, my love. Play your heart out!" Madam Heisel hurried to the French doors, flinging them open. She ran through the garden and ducked behind a short wall.
Hurrying to the piano Katie sat, expectant and prim.
The rotunda doors burst open. "Aha!" Professor Heisel bellowed, hair flying. "Where is she? Where is my wife?" He was a short man with a pointed beard and small, perfect hands. His moustache curled under fiery eyes. "Cora!" he bellowed, sweeping about. "Cora!"
He looked under the piano.
"She left," Katie said.
"Where did she go?" The Professor demanded.
"Well, let's see..." the girl stalled.
"Wait a minute. What happened here?"
"Um, practice?" she suggested.
"Prac..." professor Heisel wiped his forehead, confused. "The woman hid my pants. Why would she do that?"
"I don't know, Professor."
"Yes. I would think not. You say you've been practicing?"
"Oh, yes. Madam helped me."
"Madam?" His focus returned. "Helped? Why, she can't play the piano! When I find that woman..."
"Really Professor, she did help. We explored art and...and passion."
"Passion, you say?"
"She said the artist must have passion."
He studied his student. "Quite true."
Sunshine filled the garden. The professor's back was to the windows and Katie watched Madam Heisel emerge from behind the garden wall. Holding her voluminous skirts high she tip-toed over puddles, waved, and vanished.
"We must get to work!" the professor declaimed, pacing, oblivious. "Strike while the iron is hot, and all that. Play, my child." Katie put her hands on the keys. "Wait!" He held up a palm.
"What is that smell?" His moustache twitched.
Katie bit a fingernail. "Rain on flowers?"
"That's it!"
He paced. "How perceptive you are! You, Katie Dalrymple, have the soul of the artist. I see it all. Carnegie Hall. l'Art de Paris. The Amsterdam Conservatory." He held a triumphant fist high. "On to Bayreuth!"
"But Professor." Katie pleaded. "I just started."
"Passion!" he thundered. "That's all that matters!"
C 2006 Nikki Sinclair
Originally Published July 2006: Stripped! Anniversary Issue