Loren popped in at the end of the day, almost everything about her signaling that subtle change I'd noticed in the morning. She was wearing a Western-style gingham shirt and a pair of denim that I'd never seen her in and fit her like a glove. She moved with a breezy air and casual sense. But her hair was the most noticeable change. She'd always worn it short – I don't know anything about women's hair styles, Marnie never seemed to care about that stuff – maybe a 'bob?' But now she had gotten it styled somehow, feathered and layered in some way that made it look windswept – adding to her breeziness.
"You look amazing," I said, greeting her with a kiss. "Uhhhmm...wow."
She smiled and twirled a little, happy. "You like it?"
I assumed she meant her hair. "I'm loving it. You didn't change anything else, did you?" I whispered it conspiratorially, squeezing her ass cheeks.
She laughed and shook her head. "Why would I do that? Anyway I can't stay, I've got to get stuff done at the house and get ready for the week. Dinner sometime?"
The week went by in fits and starts, mostly uneventful with a couple of exceptions. Loren and I had agreed not to be with each other until Friday. The anticipation building up to the night was an important part of it. But we talked every evening. I teased her, forced her to show me her playing with herself over Skype, letting her see how hard it was making me.
I wanted to know more about what she and Shelly had done on Saturday, but she wouldn't tell me. I could have demanded it, could have punished her for not complying, but there was something important about her owning that, about her deciding when it was okay to let me know that I didn't want to violate.
I mentioned what Shelly had written in the note, and what she had said at the bar, which I could tell raised an eyebrow, and Loren did reveal that Shelly hadn't done much more than stroke her, but that it seemed like she wanted to go further.
Some nights we talked for hours, like teenagers, and more often than not the conversation turned to what we would be doing on Friday night. I could tell she was concerned about sharing me with another woman, but something else kept creeping up in her comments that I could tell excited her – the thought of having someone to dominate. I made sure to capture a few of the fantasies she kept coming back to: of taking the lead, of being the object of Shelly's attention and of the two of us double-teaming her. The whole focus on Shelly had forged a partnership in a way no amount of discipline had done before.
Gordy called saying he had heard from several folks and wanted a recap of what had happened. "Dangerous game you're playing, Rick. She's a viper. And to bring your clients into it...doesn't seem prudent."
I appreciated Gordy for his conservative nature and was amused by the contradictions of his personal life. Still, he knew the situation better than I'd ever know it, so I couldn't ignore his counsel.
"I'm trying to get out from under her – this is part of the plan. So, how many?"
He didn't give me details of who, but revealed about six folks had called him. That had to have been enough, I hoped.
The only other event of interest was Jamison telling me the thing would be delayed another week. Jamison was a guy who could give you bad news and you'd feel excited afterwards. I thanked him for the call and after hanging up wondered why I was taking it so well. It didn't really matter, I figured. One way or another, Loren would be feeling it in the end.
Friday was a crazy day at work, in spite of trying to keep my schedule light. Before I knew it, it was time to head home, earlier than usual, to make sure Shelly was able to get in and set up. I saw her van parked in front of the house and I pulled up next to her. "You want to back into the garage? Would that be easier?"
"Nahh. It's just a few trays. I can just carry them."
I opened the garage and pulled in, inviting her to come through the back door to the kitchen.
Within a few minutes we were alone and I realized I had better kick on the A/C if my guests weren't going to be baked alive. Shelly's face looked flushed, which I chalked up to the heat and the exertion, but I wasn't sure, smiling to myself.
She might be nervous.
I thought.
That would be so excellent.
"Hey," I called from the hall, "I'm going to get changed and then I can come down and help. If you need anything to drink, or want to open a bottle of wine, feel free – you know where we keep 'em."
I came down and set up the bar, taking stock of what I had and what I knew these guys would like. Just the opposite of last week, I smiled, more than happy to share the single-malts and bourbons. There was a knock on the door and I had a moment of panic, seeing how early it was.
"Hey," Loren came in wearing practically the same outfit as the week before, without the pearls this evening I noted, looking as ravishing as ever. She reached up gave me a kiss, deep and long. The prohibition was over, I suppose, but we wouldn't be able to do anything about anything for several hours. Her hand slid to my trousers and rubbed me. "I hope it'll be as hard for you as it is already wet for me," she whispered. "She here?"
I nodded in the direction of the kitchen and returned to my bar duties.
From my position in the living room, I could see the kitchen almost completely, either directly or reflected in a few windows from the dining room. I watched as Loren came in, greeted Shelly and continued to chat with her. I couldn't hear their conversation, but Shelly looked over, pointed, and then blushed. Moments later, she reached up and pulled Loren's head forward and lightly kissed her. When Loren stepped back, Shelly looked flustered and nervous. After a few more moments of discussion I couldn't hear, Shelly looked up at her, looked out to see me watching, looked down and blushed. I was curious what was going on, only seeing the visuals without the sound track. Loren ran her hand down her cheek and kissed her lightly on her nose. Still looking down, Shelly nodded and after Loren turned away went back to work.
"Mix me a drink?" Loren whisked into the room, her little black dress hugging every curve.
"Old Fashioned?"
"I hardly think so," she laughed, nodding.
"So," I looked at her while I assembled the cocktail, "what was that all about?"
She giggled a little. "I was just getting her ready for the evening."
I waited, mixing her drink.
"I asked her if she was ready to serve us," she continued, looking into the kitchen. "She suggested you had wanted a buffet." She giggled again and looked over at me to see why I wasn't sharing in the joke.
I shook my head in confusion, handing her the lo-ball.
"I told her that would be an interesting thing to try one night, but tonight we expected a little more personal service. That's when she blushed. She's so cute when she blushes, don't you think?"
I grunted, getting the joke. "You know," I said, coming around from behind the bar, "she doesn't seem all that experienced for someone her age."
"I don't think she's as old as you think she is. I'm not sure she's even my age."
I protested, raising my eyebrows. "Really? I've known her almost 10 years and she's been cooking since the beginning. I figured with college and cooking school, she's got to be 30 minimum."
She took a sip and shrugged. "We can ask her later."
Looking over her shoulder into the kitchen, I watched Shelly moving from station to station, preparing trays, putting things in the fridge, adding color here and there. Setting my drink down behind me on the bar, I wrapped my arms around Loren, bringing my fingers to the hem of her dress. "Don't protest, don't say a word, and by all means, don't spill your drink on me."
She inhaled sharply as I pulled her dress up above her waist and slipped her panties and hose down below the curve of her ass, exposing her to Shelly, should she look our way.
"Spread your legs a little."
I could smell her musk drifting up the front of her skirt. I pulled her ass cheeks apart and slipped one finger down between her legs, her pussy sopping. I was prepared to hold this position until Shelly looked up, or the doorbell rang. Loren's heart was beating fast, her breathing shallow, cursing me softly. Moments later, Shelly looked up and stopped, staring at the tableau. I nodded at her, suggesting she shouldn't turn away, and started pumping my hand into Loren's slit. The squishing sound was loud to my ears, but I'm certain Shelly couldn't hear us. Taking my hand off of Loren's ass, I brought two fingers up to make a 'V' and pointed them at Shelly. She shook her head, confused and blushing. I just nodded and pulled my other hand out of Loren.
"That was sweet. Thanks." I took my finger, wet with her juices and stirred it into my drink. "Hmmm, maybe I'll figure out a cocktail to name after you."
She just pursed her lips, shook her head and adjusted her clothes, unwilling to break whatever agreement we had going, knowing she was my sub, but still not sure when the power relationship began and the public relationship ended.
We sat on the couch waiting for the guests to arrive, sipping our drinks. "I told you Jamison's going to be late with the slapper, right?"
She nodded, disappointed.
