did it several times and loved the feel of her squirming under me. She arched and opened her mouth in a silent wail.
“Kiss me goodbye,” I said.
She rolled over and licked my boots.
“After I leave, you can touch yourself, but leave the toys in until you get home. Clean them and bring them back to me on Friday night. Oh, and mind your manners,” I advised as she worshipped me on the floor.
“Yes, ma'am,” she said in a tiny, chastened voice.
“Good. Stop licking. Look up at me.'
She did.
I winked, blew her a kiss and walked out past the clueless secretaries. Who could have guessed being a janitor would be so much fun?
Chapter Twelve
I told Lynn to bring her appetite on Friday, and I hauled out my old fondue set. I always thought the idea of lovers feeding one another fondue was sexy, even though I seldom got to do it. Lucille had complained it was “messy.” But then, she complained about everything. Mostly it was an effort I seldom had the motivation to fool with. Lynn suddenly made everything seem worthwhile.
During the week, I had a message from Beverly asking me to come to the club to pick up my last check. She had sounded very calm on the answering machine, and I was a little scared.
I had everything prepared when Lynn arrived with an overnight bag in hand. My house was small and cozy, in a working class neighborhood. Nothing special except to me and my dogs, Jay and Sallie, a couple of mutts whom I rescued from the pound right after rescuing myself. They were great friends already and excellent company for a lonely heart.
They greeted Lynn and sniffed her over, discovering the scent of Paprika on her. Much to my surprise, she threw aside her dignity as well as her bag and got down on the floor and roughhoused with them. Again, I was enchanted.
“So who's dominant?” I asked, watching them pile into her lap for love.
“I think they are,” Lynn grinned up at me.
“And then?” I persisted.
“How about neither of us, until we go to bed. Then you,” she suggested. Her eyes were shining and I could hardly believe it was for me.
“Good. I have fondue,” I said. “Hope you like it.” I went back to finish the last of my kitchen chores.
She got up, brushed herself off, and followed me. “Mm-hm. Haven't had it in a while. Hey, is my car going to be safe out there?” I had no garage, just a carport, and she was pulled up in the driveway behind it.
“Yes, although the neighbors may be curious and come have a look. We all kinda watch out for one another around here,” I explained.
“Okay, I know, I'm a snob,” she said, hugging me from behind. I was pleasantly surprised. It was as if there were no rules here in my home. She seemed very relaxed.
“Yes, you are. Would you like to pour some wine?” I asked.
“Glad to,” she said, spotting what she needed and doing the honors neatly.
We had our fondue on the couch while Mozart played on the stereo. The dogs curled up in the kitchen door, watching hopefully, having learned that good dogs get leftovers. By the time we got to the chocolate-dipped strawberries for dessert, we were in each other's laps and kissing as much as we were eating. Fondue sort of lends itself to that.
Lynn began getting seriously amorous, so I took the leftovers and set them on the kitchen floor. The dogs would clean up for me and then let themselves out into the yard through their dog door. They were very low- maintenance children, for sure. Then I took Lynn's hand and led her into my bedroom.
“C'mere, you,” I growled. “Why are you so different here, tonight?” I asked as I undressed her.
She grabbed my hand and pulled it into her crotch. “Not my house. Not my rules,” she grunted. “Fuck me.'
I took my hand away. “Not so fast, Lynn. You have to earn it. Where are my toys?'
“Oh, come on,” she pleaded, trying to get my hand back.
I made my voice steely. “Go get them.'
She sulked. “Yes, ma'am.'
I couldn't tell if she was putting me on or not, so when she got back, I made her kneel and hand me the items respectfully. “Don't you want me to be dominant here in my own house?” I chided.
“Yes, but I just thought, since we were getting along so well…” She seemed dejected, and I didn't want that.
“Oh, Lynn, it's not that important. I'll take you like a lover anytime. We don't have to play games every minute.” I offered her my hand, pulled her up and she looked at me expectantly. We kissed hungrily. I took her in my arms and into my bed, and pleasured her with my mouth until she was exhausted.
“Lynn, sweetheart,” I whispered to her as she lay curled against my side.
“Mmm, what, baby?” she mumbled, and my heart sang. An endearment.
I looked down at her, at that tiny bundle of demanding energy now at rest in my arms, at that glossy hair, and at her beautifully sculpted and delicious lips.
“I love you, Lynn,” I said.
She opened her eyes. “How can you?” she asked simply.
“I… I can't help it. You stole my heart, I guess,” I babbled inarticulately. “It just seemed right. I thought I should say it.'
“I'm mean and cranky. No one loves me,” she said, looking pensive.
“Well, I do. Will you let me?'
“I just might. I'll think about it while I lick you out,” she joked. “Lie back. I do enjoy this, and the other day in my office wasn't quite enough. I've been thinking about it all week.” Now she was babbling to cover her surprise and discomfort, so I did as she asked, and after many delicious moments of teasing, she let my pleasure flood all over her. When she pulled back, she looked rather triumphant, back in control once again.
She crawled back up into my arms. “Okay, you can love me,” she said, and no more than a minute later, she was asleep.
I hadn't expected Lynn to return my affections immediately, if at all. For the moment, it was enough that she accepted mine. Those were the thoughts that occupied my mind Saturday evening as I drove into Tampa to see Beverly. I would arrive before opening so there would be no distractions or interruptions during our talk. Lynn had some soiree or other to go to and I would see her again on Sunday.
I knocked at the door of the manager's office. Beverly was neither the owner nor the manager, but rather a sort of supervisor of dominants and de facto manager for people we rarely saw, rich lesbians in Atlanta. Therefore, she would be the one to transmit my resignation.
“Come in.” She looked up at me and I knew she was angry.
“Hi,” I said, feeling a bit queasy.
She opened a drawer and put an envelope on the desk. “There's your check.'
I didn't pick it up. “Can we talk a minute?'
“Why?” She wasn't in her complete uniform yet, just pants and shirt, and she was seated. Yet, I knew this imposing woman well, and I quailed at the challenge of trying to convince her I wasn't an irresponsible, flighty nutball.
“C'mon, Bev, I left a note. I came when you called, and I know I was hasty. I'm sorry about that. I'll explain it all,” I pleaded.
She glowered at me some more, then said, “Sit.” When I was more on her level, she said, “I expected more of you. I thought you were different, and I thought we were friends.'
“God, Bev, we're more than friends. We've been lovers.” I was starting to cry.
