Judy With the Booty

Foreword: I put this story in the Anal category, because that’s what kind of sex it involves, but it’s also a tale of two young women, one of whom pines for the other, who agree to a tryst. It might get re-categorized to Lesbian or even Romance, assuming it isn’t too raw for those audiences. Anyway, now you hopefully have some idea of what you’re in for, if you stopped to check this.

Judy with the Booty

Judith Boudreaux was considered the exotic beauty of our small town. She was born and raised here, but one set of her grandparents met in Korea, the other in Argentina, so she inherited a blend of traits that made her stand out from the crowd in the rural South. I always fixated on her eyes, which were big and dark and expressive. Most everyone else zeroed in on her rear, not that I can blame them. She had wide hips and very generous buns, which is largely why she got saddled with the nickname ‘Judy with the Booty’, although it was also a play on her surname (pronounced kind of like BOOD-row, for those of you who don’t know). Her posterior was fine viewing no matter what she wore, but the tiny outfits that were the uniform of the titty bar we both worked at really showed off the junk in her trunk. Her magnificent ass, most people said, more than compensated for her almost entirely flat chest. I often wanted to slap people who made such comments, but since Judy would just laugh it off, I felt obligated to let it slide.

I call the establishment a ‘titty bar’, but that’s not quite accurate. We served beer and wine coolers and things like that, but we were really just a mediocre restaurant (some people said ‘breast-aurant’) that used scantily-clad women to lure in truckers and sports fans and dirty old men. We didn’t have to get naked or do anything too lewd, although we were encouraged to flirt with the customers as much as we could. Judy loved to flounce around and tease men with her body, and she could make friends with just about anyone at the drop of a hat. As the town’s token (but mostly still closeted) lesbian, I found that a lot harder to pull off, but nowhere else I could work paid better, so I hitched on a smile and did my best to follow her lead, even with the crude customers who would lament they couldn’t combine the two of us into a ‘complete’ package.

I should probably explain that I was almost the polar opposite of Judy in many ways. She was outgoing whereas I was reserved. She had straight dark hair and a kind of olive complexion, while I was pale with rusty brown curls. I already mentioned her kind of pear-shaped build; my own figure was lanky, with a flat ass but incongruously large breasts, which is the feature most guys admired, and the one they wanted to add to Judy. In absolute terms I wasn’t really absurdly endowed, but on a skinny girl anything more than a handful tends to look huge, especially in a tight shirt with an open-cup bra (‘nips for tips’, as Judy would say). And, while I suggested she was a tease, Judy actually had a reputation for putting out for her boyfriends, whereas my exploits had largely been limited to my toy collection.

Back in high school, Judy and I hadn’t interacted much, despite how small our class was. In the year or so we’d been working together, though, we’d become good friends, and I’d fallen hard for her.

Knowing she was straight, I kept my longings secret. She was one of the few people in town I’d come out to about my orientation, but she never let it become an issue. In fact, she even went so far as to flirt with me, saying that it would help me be a better waitress, or at least get better tips. It was on her advice that I’d started wearing bras that didn’t cover my nipples. Even though it made me feel slutty, the idea that I was actually being slutty for her was compelling. I went along with it all, even though it made my frustrated longing for her worse. I simply couldn’t say no to the fantasy that she was interested in me, and truth be told, she was probably right in suggesting I could use the practice for dealing with people. After a particularly rough day in early spring, when I nearly had a panic attack thanks to the bedlam of an energetic crowd, she invited herself over to help me de-stress and work on my people skills.

***

“Try to use your hands more when you talk,” Judy said, emphasizing her point by placing one of hers on my upper arm, making my heart flutter. She was leaning over slightly, rearranging the items on my kitchen table as if she were waitressing, and the slight sensation of her weight pressing on me was strangely exhilarating. “Don’t be grabby, obviously, but a little casual contact will go a long way!”

“I dunno,” I replied uncertainly. “Won’t that encourage them to do the same? I don’t like the idea of strangers putting their hands on my legs or patting me on the ass.”

“There aren’t many guys who would get that fresh these days,” Judy said, taking her hand away and leaving me missing her fatih escort touch. “And let’s be real: any of the ones that would try it won’t be waiting for an invitation.”

“I guess not,” I said. I wasn’t completely convinced, but it was hard for me to openly disagree with her. She pressed on, choosing not to address my obvious doubts.

“As long as it’s just a guy or guys at the table, take a seat with them if there’s an open chair. It’ll make you seem more welcoming and interested in them.” Judy bumped my shoulder with her hip and teased, “Don’t be tempted to sit in their laps, though! That’s an advanced technique, I don’t think you’re ready for it quite yet!”

I laughed, appreciating the joke on one level, but it sounded kind of manic or forced, thanks to the thrill I got from the contact. Not to mention the fact that I was imagining her sitting down on me, having her plump rear pressed up against my thighs and feeling her full weight on me, reaching up to wrap my arms around her….

“Earth to Elizabeth!” Judy said, snapping her fingers in front of my face and startling me out of my reverie. “Where did you go?”

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly, briefly making eye contact. “You know how my mind can run away sometimes.”

“Still worried about leading people on?” she asked. “Afraid they’ll get the wrong message? Read too much into things?”

That was at least mostly true, if not the actual reason for my wandering thoughts, so I just shrugged and nodded in agreement. “I guess I’m just not attuned to people’s body language and stuff.”

“It takes practice, that’s all” Judy assured me. “Just because it comes more naturally to me doesn’t mean you can’t learn to be just as good, and once you are, I bet you’ll feel a lot more comfortable interacting with folks.”

“I hope so,” I said glumly. “Thanks for giving up your night to spend time helping me.”

“Don’t make it sound like such a burden!” she replied, laughing. “We’re friends, aren’t we? It’s good to just hang out sometimes!”

“Still…” I said, searching for any excuse to prolong our time together. “I appreciate it. A lot. Do you want something to drink? Or to eat?”

Judy held up her hand before I could start babbling and said, “I’ll take a glass of whatever you have that’s soft and sweet!” I looked at her quizzically, wondering if she was still being flirtatious or if I was just a dunce. She clarified, “Nothing with alcohol, I mean. I have to drive home soon. Soda, sweet tea, fruit juice… whatever’s convenient for you!”

I blushed slightly as I bustled off to fetch a glass for her. An impulse to suggest that she could spend the night had welled up inside me, but it felt menacingly forward and out of character for me, so I quashed the urge almost as soon as I realized I was having it. We chatted a little more about trivial things, and I let slip that I still had misgivings about acting on her advice. “It’s just, we’re already wearing suggestive clothes, and I sometimes feel kind of like a slut walking around with my boobs half on display. I’m worried it could be one of those ‘give them an inch and they’ll take a mile’ scenarios.”

Judy gave me a little smile and said, “You’re getting worried over nothing. Have you ever seen anyone pull a stunt like that with me?”

“Well, no…” I admitted. Then, despite my better judgment, I added, “But I hear you do let things go further. Sometimes.”

Judy’s cheeks got faintly pink and her eyes went wide, giving her a comical look of surprise. I was terrified that I’d offended her, since our sex lives (or lack thereof) were not a topic we had ever really discussed. A peal of laughter erupted from her, however, and it was more than a minute before she calmed down enough to respond to me verbally. I spent the time turning beet red with shame and embarrassment, although I was relieved that she didn’t seem to be angry, at least.

Wiping tears of mirth from her eyes, Judy said, “Word gets around, I see! I’ll let you in on a little secret, which I guess isn’t all that secretive after all.” Leaning forward across the table a bit, she lowered her voice slightly and said, “Yes, I have occasionally had liaisons with customers in the past. And before you ask, no, it’s not for tips or any other monetary considerations. It’s just… where else in town am I going to meet anyone?”

“Sorry,” I said, contritely. “I mean, for coming out of left field like that. I didn’t mean it to sound like an accusation.”

“It’s fine!” Judy replied, waving her hand in the air. “It took me by surprise, that’s all. No worries!” She tilted her head a bit and got a thoughtful expression on her face, then added, “Come to think of it, that might be just the ticket!”

Confused and vaguely alarmed, I quickly said, “I’m not going to hook up with a customer!”

Judy laughed again and shook her head, saying, “No, I mean, you can watch me and the guys I’ve hooked up with!” Seeing the aghast çapa escort look on my face, she blushed a little and giggled. “That came out wrong! I meant, you can watch how we interact when I’m their server. We basically have a code that we just kind of naturally adopted. They’ll flirt with me, and if I’m free and willing, I subtly let them know by my behavior, and we just kind of escalate throughout the evening. It’s kind of like foreplay, I guess. Or maybe a mating dance!”

“I had no idea,” I replied, feeling somehow queasy and a little turned on at the same time, thanks to the topic of discussion. “Why bother with a code, though?”

“Well, I guess it’s kind of like a screening tool,” Judy said with a small grin. “If a guy doesn’t have the patience to play along and observe the proper forms and rituals, there’s a good chance he wouldn’t fall in line with my other requirements.”

“What other requirements?” I asked, totally engrossed in the conversation, and yet still mostly baffled.

Judy looked slightly uneasy at the question, which was a bit surprising. After a few moments of hesitation, though, she blushed faintly again and said, “Well, it may seem hypocritical or something, but I’m saving myself for marriage, so they have to respect that if they want to get in my pants.”

“I am totally lost,” I admitted.

Judy laughed again, but nervously this time, and confided, “Well, I only do anal. I’m a virgin in the narrow, traditional sense of the word.” Responding to my shocked expression, she giggled quietly and said, “I kind of thought you would have guessed that, considering I know you know my nickname.”

I blinked for a moment, then exclaimed, “I thought that was because of your real name!” Gesturing vaguely toward her lap, I added, “And because you have such a great ass!”

Seeming to have regained her composure, Judy smiled at me and said, “Well, yeah, that’s how the name got started, sure. But it might not have stuck past high school if I hadn’t gotten a reputation as a butt slut.” Winking at me, she added, “And thanks for the compliment, by the way! It’s flattering to know my charms work on girls, too!”

“They sure do on this one,” I replied automatically, then clapped my hand over my mouth in horror. Too embarrassed even to apologize, I just stared at my friend, terrified that I’d fucked things up. Her face was hard to read. She didn’t seem disgusted or angry, at least, but the welcoming smile she usually wore was gone, too. We sat in awkward silence for a while, before she finally decided to address the issue I’d inadvertently raised.

“Look, I’m not trying to be mean. I kinda know that you’re into me, or you at least like looking at me, and I’m fine with that, really I am. Hell, if I had a problem with people admiring my body I’d be doing a different job. And I know you haven’t said or done anything because you know I’m not into girls.”

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, moving my hands to cover my entire face. “I’m so humiliated right now!”

I heard Judy shifting in her chair for a moment, as if she was preparing to stand up, but she remained seated. Instead, she quietly replied, “You don’t have to feel that way. I’m not judging you. You’re my friend, and I don’t want to hurt you, and I’m honestly sorry that I can’t be what you want. Everyone deserves some happiness.”

I kept my face covered so she couldn’t see my tears, although I think she knew I was crying by the way I was breathing. I didn’t trust my voice, and couldn’t think of anything worth saying anyway, so we sat in silence for another long while.

Judy sounded sad when she announced, “I should probably go home now. I wish I could comfort you somehow, but I think anything I tried would probably just make things worse.” Her chair scraped against the floor as she finally stood, sounding harsh and loud and final. “I’ll give you some space. But we’re still friends, okay? Call me later if you need to talk about… whatever.” She waited a little while to see if I would respond, then she let herself out of my apartment, and, I feared, out of my life.

***

Fortunately, my maudlin thoughts turned out to be unfounded. Things were awkward between us for a few weeks, which was mostly my fault. She tried a couple of times to let me know I could talk about my feelings if I wanted to, but I was doing my best to repress them, and she didn’t pry. By the time summer rolled around we were almost back to normal. The one lasting difference is that she was no longer flirtatious with me, which was both a relief and a source of depression. I couldn’t help but note the irony that my secret had come out, at least in part, because I was nervous about giving people false hopes of intimacy by seeming too friendly.

I started paying more attention to Judy’s actions instead of just ogling her bits, and to my surprise, I discovered that it actually was fairly easy to discern the difference between her güngören escort body language when she was being friendly and when she was truly flirting with someone. The clues were subtle, sure, but I obsessed about it almost as much as I’d obsessed about being with her before. Seeing her give soft smiles to a man and favor him with lingering touches still gave me a sick feeling somewhere in my belly, a kind of nauseating jealousy, but I gritted my teeth and endured it as best I could. I started emulating elements of her behavior, and while it was considerably more challenging to do than just to recognize, I gradually got better at it. And, just as she’d predicted, my improved perceptiveness made it easier to manage my anxiety when people around me started getting highly emotional. I wondered how someone barely older than I was could be so wise, and it burned like acid to know I loved her even more than before.

Toward the end of summer, Judy and one of her paramours started getting serious, much to my distress (plus five or six of her other friends with benefits). When I saw the guy (Hunter) shopping for an engagement ring at the one jewelry store in town, I had a massive panic attack and got physically sick on the sidewalk. That was the beginning of the end of my life in my hometown. I probably should have known the day would come eventually, since you can’t really get over an unrequited love until you can put it behind you somehow. For me, that meant I would have to find someplace else, where I could be myself and meet a like-minded woman. Judy was very sad when I told her I was moving across the state, but I could tell she understood.

Almost eighteen months passed before I came back to my former home. My father had had a health scare, and while his prognosis was ultimately good, there were several days early on where the outcome was in question. After that excitement settled down a bit, I got curious about Judy, whom I hadn’t spoken to since I left. I hoped my silence hadn’t hurt her, but I doubted I could have been happy for her impending nuptials, given where I was in my life at that time. My sojourn in the city (I use the term loosely) had been good for me, though, and I’d finally been able to date (and fuck) some of the women I was attracted to. My self-confidence and comfort with my identity were much stronger than when I’d left. My flings had all been relatively brief to that point, but passionate, and I thought I’d be able to handle my residual feelings about encountering Mrs. Judy Donaldson. As usual, I was wrong.

***

“He dumped you?!” I screeched, spilling my coffee all over the table I was sitting at. Judy looked amused and exasperated by my outburst and the mess I’d made, and her laugh sounded just the same as I remembered when I started cursing thanks to the hot liquid dripping into my lap.

“Yeah,” she confirmed, pulling out a towel and starting to wipe down the table, while I dabbed my jeans with a handful of napkins. “Turns out his parents weren’t too keen on their son marrying a woman of ‘impure heritage’, if I recall the phrase correctly. They threatened to write him out of their will, so he bailed.”

“You’re kidding!” I shouted, drawing stares from the other customers. Slightly chagrined, I lowered my voice and continued, “That’s outrageous! Who do they think they are?!”

Shrugging, Judy replied, “They think they’re the family that owns a third of the town, and they’re right. As long as they stay in this pond, they can pretty much get away with anything that ain’t illegal, and probably some stuff that is.”

“Well, the Donaldsons are fucking twats,” I spat, indignant at their shabby treatment of my friend.

Judy giggled and said, “Language, Elizabeth! Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” I rolled my eyes, since she certainly wasn’t above using curse words and was obviously teasing me. Composing herself, she continued, “You must actually be pretty upset. I can’t remember the last time you didn’t use a soap swear instead.” For those who don’t know, that’s what we called words like ‘darn’ and ‘heck’ and ‘booty’ and so forth, so our parents wouldn’t threaten to wash our mouths out with soap.

“Well, yeah,” I admitted. “Hunter’s parents are evidently fucking racists, and he’s a fucking coward for not standing up to them.” Judy smirked a little at my outburst but didn’t admonish my choice of vocabulary. I found I couldn’t just stop there, though, and revealed more of my underlying angst than I’d intended. “I can’t believe I was actually jealous of that spineless little shit-stain!” I seethed. “Do you know I actually threw up when I found out he was going to propose to you? I would have given literally anything to be in his shoes back then, to get to be with you! I couldn’t stand how lucky he was. And he fucking threw you away! For money! God, what a cum-rag he turned out to be!”

Judy’s expression morphed several times during my rant. She started out amused, probably because of the vulgarity she still considered to be out-of-character for me. That turned into shock at my confession, and finally ended up somewhere between touched and concerned, if I was reading her face correctly. “I appreciate how much you care,” she said carefully. “But it’s okay, really. I was hurt for a while, but I got over it.”