Part Two -Summer 1948-
After only a few hours of sleep, Agnes found herself awake and staring at the ceiling of her bedroom. Despite the long day, she found herself fully awake. Dinner had been wonderful, they had talked and laughed late into the night.
She lay there for a few minutes, listening to the sound of the soft crash of the waves against the sands beneath her window. Finally, Agnes decided she had to get up.
The tall brunette sat up in her bed, dropping her feet over the side of the classic four poster. Agnes was wearing a full length sheer black nightgown that she had been given at her wedding shower two years before. Her sister Susan had sent all the way to Hollywood for it so that Agnes might have something really sexy to wear on her wedding night. A night that had never come about.
Conventional mores stated that a girl was supposed to go to her wedding bed a virgin. The reality was that having the ring on her finger was enough to open most girls’ legs. Especially as was the case with Agnes and the groom to be, who was nine years older and had seen military service during the war. Few men like that came home virgins and didn’t want to wait until the wedding night.
Agnes wasn’t too disappointed when she lost her maidenhood in a wholly unsatisfying act. Both her mother and older sister had warned her previously that it would most likely happen like that. Both of their husbands had deflowered them in rushed, un-fulfilling love making sessions. They did, however, assure her that it would get better with time.
By the second month of their intimacy however, Agnes had concluded that it wasn’t ever going to be any better than that first time. It wasn’t that her intended was a bad or even an inconsiderate lover. Quite the contrary. Based on what she heard from other women, Jeff was a most thoughtful and caring lover. And it wasn’t as if she wasn’t trying as hard as she could either. While in the Army, Jeff had been introduced to the delights of oral sex by a Parisian whore. Unlike some of her more timid girlfriends, Agnes didn’t consider fellatio or anything else that brought someone you cared about pleasure an unnatural act and willing engaged in it. Jeff enjoyed her efforts immensely, but it still left her feeling as hollow and unfulfilled as intercourse had.
Three weeks before the wedding, Agnes had abruptly announced she was breaking off the engagement and joining the Army. She had enrolled in a program that would send her to nursing school in exchange for military service. Neither her fiancée, nor her family, ever really got an explanation for her sudden decision. The twenty-four year old had just packed everything she owned into two bags and left a week later. Agnes liked to wear the nightgown while on leave since it didn’t exactly fit into Army life.
Through the open window, Agnes could see the reflection of the full moon on the water, but not the moon itself. No longer tired, she decided to step outside to have a good look at it.
The house was as quiet as could be and Agnes measured her steps carefully as not to disturb Garnett. The two small guest bedrooms they occupied were next to each other on the main floor. Passing through the kitchen, Agnes was surprised to see small illuminations from out on the patio deck. Moving closer to the sliding glass door, Agnes could see a half dozen lit candles spread around the veranda. Gently sliding open the door, Agnes stepped outside and could see a figure sitting near the edge in one of the recliners. Without being able to see her face, she knew it was Garnet.
The redhead was wearing light magenta colored pajamas, embroidered with flowers and birds. Her rich red hair hung its full length, stretched behind her chair. She was staring out onto the horizon and as the taller woman moved closer, Agnes could see that all of the buttons of the pajama top had been undone. It was also clear that Garnet had one hand beneath the waistband of her bottoms.
Realizing that her younger hostess was energetically engaged in what her mother had described endless times as self-abuse, Agnes told herself that she should just quietly back up the way she had come. She was too educated a young woman to believe her mother’s description of the act she was witnessing. In fact, she really hadn’t believed it when she’d discovered the act herself when she was thirteen. It was impossible for her to believe that something that felt so good could be bad. Truth be told, the scene unfolding in front of her fascinated Agnes. The first time she had ever watched a girl pleasure herself had been when she shared a room with her sister, Susan. She never really saw much, and definitely never had the nerve to ask her about it. Still it always enthralled her.
END OF SAMPLE