She rolled over and pressed her face against my boots, something she always did without being told. “I don't think you'd understand,” she said, sounding sad.
“You mean you think I don't know Nabokov, or I won't understand your personal reason?” I encouraged.
“You've read Nabokov?” She did sound surprised.
“Not willingly. In college, I had to for a lit class. I hated it,” I told her.
“Well, assuming you're a feminist, you would. You should.” She looked up. “Look, can I buy you a drink? I've been meaning to ask you that for weeks. I wasn't sure we were allowed to just talk.” She sounded vulnerable and shy and I was charmed yet again.
“Yes. Let me finish fucking you silly, you outrageous little slut, and then we'll have a drink,” I agreed. I lowered myself on top of her and did her with my knee until she screamed into our kiss, clawing at the back of my shirt. I let my whole weight rest on her while she caressed me to climax with her hand, and then I let her up so we could have our drink in the bar.
Once she had her club soda with lemon, we sat at a small table. Even in the dim lighting, we kept our dark glasses on. We were both protecting her.
“I call myself Lolita because I'm punishing myself for being a slut. It's the worst name I can think of other than something like Jezebel,” she said matter-of-factly, as if I had asked for her name, rank and social security number.
“Grisette?” I suggested helpfully.
“Very funny.” Her lips quirked into a grin. “I would love to know more about who you are, although I know better than to ask. I confess I had not expected anyone I found here to be well-read or erudite, and I apologize.'
“No, neither had I,” I deadpanned.
She inclined her head. “Touche.'
“Lolita,” I began, “I hate for you to think there's something wrong with coming here. It's not as if anyone is forced. We all chose this for various reasons. I began as a sub myself. I don't feel guilty, and I would hope you could eventually stop as well.'
“Would you tell your parents about this?” she challenged.
“No, but not because I'm ashamed. Because they have no concept. They did well enough accepting my orientation. No need to strain their comfort zone any more than that.” And no need to tell her that neither of my parents were living anymore. Plenty of time for that later.
“Are you from a small town or a city?” Lolita demanded.
“New York City,” I told her.
“I'm from a small town in the Midwest. I have many more inhibitions to overcome than you do. But I don't mean to lecture. I kind of meant to thank you, and to tell you… how I feel,” she trailed off. “How freeing this has been for me. How much better I seem to be able to function in the rest of my life.'
“It's a relief,” I said supportively. “A lot of people feel that way, myself included.'
“Do people from here… ever continue their relationships outside?” she asked. Her hand shook when she picked up her cup.
I knew what it had cost her to ask, but I also had to tell the truth. “It's not encouraged, due to the promises of anonymity we make to you, and because for most of us who work here, this is pretty much a secret. I could probably get fired if my employers knew I had done such a thing. Drinking with clients is permitted, but nothing more.'
“I would be dismissed from my job, that's for certain,” she nodded. “Well, then, let me say I only wish I had met you elsewhere. It took me… years to admit this need to myself, and even longer to take the steps to meet it. I wish…” She shook her head and I realized she was crying.
I stood up. “Lolita, come,” I said gently, and I led her down the row of private rooms until I found an unoccupied one. I held her against me. “Can you trust me? I want to share something with you.'
She nodded, but I could see she was apprehensive so I took her by the hand and seated her in the large, throne-like chair on a carpeted dais, where dommes and subs played queen and slave games.
I knelt before her, pulled off my hat and fluffed up my hair. I looked up at her, removed my glasses and said, “I'm your janitor, Jane Naismith, Dr. Jeffries.” Then I bowed my head to the floor and kissed her feet. She wore crappy, plastic, high-heeled sandals and I prefer to kiss boots, but I really didn't care.
I looked back up to see that she was slumped on the throne. Her mouth formed the words, “Oh, no,” but no sounds came out. She was paralyzed, at least momentarily, and I was glad, because that meant she wasn't running from the room, screaming.
I put my hand on her knee and spoke my rehearsed lines as soothingly as I could. “I'm giving myself up to you. You can cost me both my jobs. No one would ever take my word over yours. You have complete control as well as my word of honor I will say nothing to anyone. You can continue this as we have been, leave and not return or anything of your choosing. You can have my resignation from my job at school. Anything at all is yours, okay? You're in command here.” I bowed my head and waited for her decision, or her response, if she couldn't decide right away.
“Oh, my God,” she finally breathed. “May I have some water?'
“Of course.” I rose and poured her some from the cooler, one of which we kept in every room because of the strenuous activities we all performed all night.
She took the glass and I sat down at her feet. A rustling sound got my attention and I looked up to see that she had removed her wig and glasses. She looked pale but lovely in the dim light.
“I guess these are… superfluous now,” she said. “I don't know what to do.'
“You don't have to do anything. You have options, and I'll accept your decision, whatever it is,” I told her.
“When did you know?” she demanded, and she began to cry again.
“Last week.” I got up and found tissues in a cabinet. “I suspected the first time, but I had to go back and see you at work to be sure.” It was a lie, but better than the truth. “I told you because I felt we were forming an attachment and I find it very hard to live a lie. I did it for years in the Army and I will never do it again.'
She was quiet a long time. “I live a lie every day. Now I have to live two, although it isn't your fault. I chose to come here, as you said.” She was quiet again, and I left her to it. “Before I knew who you were, I felt an enormous attraction. Now I'm not so sure.'
“That's okay. I know it's a shock. I just had one last week myself,” I reminded her.
“Why don't you think I'm scum?” she cried. “How can you respect me anymore?'
“Oh, Dr. Jeffries, this has nothing to do with respect! This has to do with sharing and trust. My respect for you is undiminished because I already understand myself. I know where you're coming from. I feel the same. You're still my boss, an educator and a scholar. Who cares what kind of sex you like? It isn't anybody else's business,” I said, pleading with my eyes.
“I need to know more about you, and I need time to think, before I decide to take early retirement and run away to Tahiti,” she tried joking. “And I really think, that under the circumstances, you ought to call me ‘Lynn.’”
“Yes, ma'am, Lynn,” I said, loving her with my voice.
“Hey, you're the domme, remember,” she chided.
“You're my boss, and that's how I'm gonna treat you outside of here. I just want you to know. Are you going to be all right?'
She stared at me. “Be all right? No! Are you crazy! My janitor now knows more about me than my parents do. Absolutely not!'
I stared back, scared again. “So, what… what do you wanna do?'
She leaned over and got right in my face. “You're about to pull an all-nighter with me, Jane. I'm not letting you out of my sight until I figure this thing out. As you said, I'm the boss. You come with me.'
Now it was my turn to be paralyzed. I don't know what I had expected, but it wasn't this. “Uh, uh, what about my car?'
“Leave it.'
“Yes, ma'am.'
We went to our respective locker rooms and changed into our street clothes. I could have escaped then, and
