LACTOGENESIS XIII: 

THE PHONE CALL 
 
 A thin film of sweat covered Christine's face. Her hair, where it 
brushed against her neck, was also wet with sweat. Her breathing was 
heavy, bordering on panting. Her breasts heaved and shook with the 
effort. Her hips surged in a rhythm that was steadily increasing. 
Faster, faster... Chris tossed her head back, grunting in synchrony with 
the movements of her lower body. She was quickly building toward her 
peak... 
 A tone sounded. The Stairmaster stopped speeding up and went into the 
cool-down phase of the workout program. Chris groaned in relief as she 
felt the burning in her legs gradually subside. She used the towel 
draped around her neck to wipe away the sweat that threatened to drip 
into her eyes. Not bad, she thought. I'll be maxxing this thing out 
before long. 
 She heard the warbling of the telephone, but decided to let the 
answering machine pick it up. She wasn't cooled down enough and feared 
cramping if she suddenly stopped now. A different kind of tone sounded 
as her recorded greeting ended and the machine awaited a response. It 
was a couple of seconds in coming. The voice issuing from the speaker 
was halting, almost tentative. 
 "Chris? Uh, hi, it's Carl. I'm, uh, I'm really sorry I haven't called 
you before now. I heard about your accident and have been meaning to get 
in touch, but business is really booming these days, and uh, well, you 
know how it is. Anyway, I'm in town for a couple of days meeting with 
some people about a new product line, and, uh, well, I'd really like to 
see you while I'm here. Would you mind? I know it's been a long time, 
but I'm not sure when I'll be in the area again. Boy, you'd think a 
salesman would be used to answering machines, but I still hate these 
things. Uh, I'm at the Sheraton until Tuesday afternoon. I'd sure like 
to have dinner, talk, uh, whatever. Give me a call, OK? Hope we can get 
together. Bye." 
 Chris hopped off the Stairmaster, crossed to the answering machine, and 
replayed the message to make sure the voice was who she thought it was. 
My God. Carl Banks, she thought. Back from the dead. Tail between his 
legs, too, by the sound of him. Quite unbidden, Chris's memory called up 
the file, up to now thought closed, on Carl Banks. He and Chris had met 
at a health club, back when that was *the* place to meet "swinging 
singles". Could it be almost three years? He was working as a 
semiconductor salesman at the time; she was still at the paper editing 
copy. Their relationship had been tempestuous, exhilarating, 
spontaneous, and almost entirely physical. It had lasted five months 
before he got an opportunity to move up the corporate ladder and took 
it. He'd left for the other side of the country almost without a word, 
and hadn't been in touch since. She smiled sourly when she replayed him 
saying he was still a salesman. So much for upward mobility, she 
thought. She remembered the pain -- she had been something of an old-
fashioned girl then, a one-man woman, and even though there wasn't much 
more than sex to their relationship, she had enjoyed it, and had not 
appreciated the abrupt way it had ended. 
 Her finger hovered over the "erase" button as she considered what to do 
about Carl. She noted with some satisfaction that there was no trace 
whatsoever of any feelings for him; there would be no regrets if she 
didn't return his call. Still, her curiosity was piqued. Whatever else 
Carl had been, he had been pretty good in the sack, and it had been, 
after all, a long time since Chris had gotten her ashes properly hauled. 
The incident at the Decade Eight Club three weeks before had shaken her 
up more than she'd thought. The attack by the crazed seltzer guy had 
been too close to rape for comfort, enough so that she'd not been out 
with a man since. Carl was a pretty safe bet. Chris hit the "save" 
button instead and started getting ready to shower. 
 As the water cascaded over her and she ran the bar of soap over her 
body, Chris suddenly realized that Carl would have no idea about what 
she looked like now, or better still, what she could do. As far as he 
knew, Chris was still a woman with a rather ordinary body and rather 
ordinary sexual habits. Wait'll he gets a load of these, she thought 
slyly. She squeezed her boobs playfully, causing a dribble of milk to 
wash the soap suds from her nipples. She passed a hand over her baby-
smooth mons, remembering how Carl used to complain about getting her 
pubic hair caught in his throat. Oh, now I've done it, Chris said to 
herself, as her random hand motions and memories of how good it had felt 
to bury Carl's cock in her pussy began to catch up to her. Might as well 
finish the job... 
 Chris's shower was a hand-held water massage. She took it down from its 
mounting bracket, dialed for a hard pulsing spray, and began playing the 
shower head over her body. The jets of high-pressure water kneaded her 
breasts like thousands of tiny fingers, tingling the skin from without 
and starting the familiar tingling from within. The drops falling from 
the dark red tips of her bosom turned gradually from the colorless 
clarity of water to the opaque whiteness of mother's milk as she willed 
the letdown to proceed. Chris leaned back against the shower wall, 
causing her breasts to point slightly upward and sending a spray most of 
the way up the far wall as she masterfully milked herself with her free 
hand. She planted her feet at the corners of the small stall, bent her 
knees slightly, and slowly guided the pulsating shower toward her naked 
pussy, whose lips were now slightly puffy and whose clit now peeked out 
from their uppermost junction. As the blasting water struck it, Chris 
gasped from the force and redirected the spray for less direct contact. 
In only a second or two she had found the right combination of pressure 
and flow, and was well on her way to yet another satisfying orgasm. As 
she neared the magic moment, she bent her head and brought one breast up 
to her mouth (they were almost too firm to allow that). She encircled 
the nipple with her lips and drank of herself, marveling at the warmth 
and sweetness of her milk as she had on several previous occasions. As 
it had in the past, this was enough to complete her journey to orgasm. 
Her cunt poured forth its bounty, rivaling the shower in the intensity 
of the flow. Chris's legs, weakened from her workout, could barely 
support her as she shook with the force of the orgasm. She felt the 
flood of juices running down them, to be immediately washed away by the 
shower. As the peak passed, Chris released her nipple, which continued 
to drip. She spent the next few minutes emptying both breasts -- the 
shower was a good place to do that, even when she wasn't masturbating. 
She did a good portion of this by suckling herself, as the workout had 
made her thirsty. The last few ounces she expressed by hand. She allowed 
herself another, less intense orgasm while doing this, then snapped out 
of it when she realized she'd been in the shower for over half an hour. 
My water bill's going to be unreal this month, she said to herself as 
she turned off the water and reached for a towel. 
 She was still drying off as she walked through her apartment, heedless 
of the open windows, to her telephone. She dropped the towel as she 
picked up the phone book and looked up the number for the Sheraton. She 
dialed it and asked for Carl's room, but he was not there. Probably down 
in the bar trying to score, she thought scornfully. She left a short 
message: "Carl. Chris. Welcome back. Yes, I'd love to see you. How about 
tomorrow night for dinner? I'll come by your hotel at 7:30. See you 
then." As she hung up, she caught a glimpse of her nude body in the hall 
mirror, droplets of water still gleaming here and there on her skin. 
Carl, lover, she thought, you are in for one hell of a surprise. Her 
nipples began hardening again as she considered her plan of attack. She 
looked down at them and noticed tiny white droplets appearing. She shook 
her head and wiped them away with the towel. "This is ridiculous," she 
said out loud. 
 As she dressed, she realized that even though she felt nothing for 
Carl, she knew that the anticipation of getting him into bed was going 
to make it a long day at work tomorrow. I can't believe how worked up 
I'm getting over the prospect of shocking the crap out of this jerk, she 
told herself. I have *got* to start meeting new people. Immediately a 
part of her mind began working on how that would happen. She wasn't even 
aware of it, but her subconscious had just started her down a path which 
would take her places the old Chris would never have considered.