Summer Hire

Dinner Date

Melissa stared at the door, feeling very uneasy about her motivations. She had endlessly dithered about how to dress for her dinner "get-together" with Deborah in the city.

When Melissa had called Deborah the previous day to ask about getting meeting for dinner on one of her days off, they had wound up chatting for over an hour, as though they were already intimate friends. Given how eagerly they had followed Erik's command to make out with each other the first time they had met, Melissa found herself smirking with the realization that "intimate" could indeed be an appropriate description.

At the end of their phone call, Deborah asked Melissa come by her place in the city the next day for an informal dinner of take-out Indian food. Deborah seemed eager to see her, and Melissa was really excited about seeing Deborah as well.

Melissa worried, however, about why she liked Deborah so much. She feared some of it could be a sexual attraction to Deborah. She worried whether or not Deborah's eagerness to see her could mean the attraction was mutual, and whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

As she dressed, Melissa decided on flat sandals. She felt self-conscious of her height, compared to Deborah's more petite size. It was hard to find a pair of flats hiding among the six-inch heels that seemed to be rapidly multiplying in her closet. She wondered if Erik spent hours on-line shopping for high heels, or if he simply had Cathy buy several new pairs of heels each day. He clearly had a fetish for women in high heels.

She had asked him, after recovering from their impromptu afternoon session, whether his rules against underwear applied on her days off. He solemnly nodded yes, which let her avoid wrestling with that question when dressing for her dinner. In the end, she had opted for a Bohemian peasant outfit that Cathy had picked out for her. It had a gauzy cotton poet's blouse and mid-length skirt with a half-bust corset/basque top that gave her some support. Of course, based on what Cathy had taken as Erik's unspoken guidelines, the corset top didn't come quite high enough to cover her nipples. In the right lighting, the darker rounds of her areolae were visible through the thin cotton blouse.

Getting dressed, she had brushed against her nipple. The protrusion of her erect nipple seemed very obvious under the white fabric. Seeing that, she had sighed, nearly deciding to change again, then gave up, deciding to accept her fate as a sexual play toy for the summer. She decided that she was very unlikely to meet anyone she knew in the high-rent district where Deborah lived, plus eating take-out food in her apartment meant that they wouldn't have to go out in public.

Of course, now that she was standing in front of Deborah's door, she looked down and could see her nipples clearly jutting out. "It's just my nervousness," she reassured herself. "Besides, in flats, my breasts won't be the first thing she sees."

Knowing that the doorman had called up to Deborah to say that she was on her way up, Melissa decided she couldn't put off ringing the doorbell any longer. Just as she reached out to push the button, however, the door swung open revealing Deborah. Her face lit up with a wide smile. Melissa was struck by how the vibrancy of Deborah's expression and the whiteness of her teeth were framed by her full dark hair and olive complexion. Although she already knew that Deborah was gorgeous, Melissa was instantly jolted by how stunning she looked, even in a well-worn t-shirt, equally weathered fatigue pants, and bare feet.

Deborah reached out in a hug, "There you are! I was worried you'd gotten lost on the way up." Deborah raised up on half-toe to give Melissa what started as a quick kiss on the lips, except that she lingered a half moment longer than a quick peck. In that unexpected moment, Melissa found herself responding, her mouth softening and pressing hesitantly forward. With a sigh, Deborah melted against her. After a moment, their lips parted as their tongues sought each other out.

Slowly they separated, both a bit surprised. Deborah laughed quietly, "So that's the way it's going to be..."

Melissa immediately flushed pink with embarrassment, "No. I mean, it doesn't have to be. I, um, I... oh hell. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing."

Deborah shrugged, with a self-deprecating laugh, "Me neither, although I'm pretty sure it can be whatever we want it to be. But come in! I'm starving. The food got here 20 minutes ago, and the smell has been driving me crazy."

Melissa still felt sheepish, but Deborah's lighthearted welcome pulled her into the apartment and through to the kitchen. Looking around, Melissa was surprised by the abstract sculptures and bold artwork scattered throughout the large apartment. Deborah's furniture was sparse, primarily light-colored wood and dark gray leather. There were only a few small rugs dotting a wide expanse of polished pink stone floor.

"Wow," Melissa said, "it's different than I expected."

"Really?" Deborah seemed genuinely curious. "How so?" She slid open a warming drawer and took out several containers of take-out food.

"I'm not sure. I mean, your place is beautiful... and sophisticated. I guess, well I figured it'd be that. But maybe I was expecting something more girly or softer. I mean, not that this isn't amazing."

Deborah laughed again, "Well I used to have it carpeted, and the living room was all overstuffed fabric-covered sofas and all." She laid out the food near place settings that were already set out on a high-topped dark table in the middle of the kitchen. She waved Melissa towards high stools tucked under the table.

Melissa pulled out a stool and sat down, only to discover Deborah wagging her finger disapprovingly at her. Startled, Melissa looked around hurriedly, trying to figure out what she had done wrong.

Deborah smiled reassuringly, "Remember how you're supposed to sit in a skirt?"

Melissa grimaced a smile, "Sorry. I guess I didn't realize those rules applied here too." She stood up and swept the back of her skirt out over the stool, so there was no fabric trapped between her skin and the seat of her stool when she sat back down. "Better?"

"Yep. A good sub's got to make those things habit."

Melissa laughed, shaking her head ruefully, "It's going to be weird to go back to vanilla rules."

"When?"

"Well, I mean, like when I go back to school. Ivy League grad students don't... well, you know..."

"Yeah, I do know. And sure, I have a different set of rules for how I behave on the trading floor, compared to what I do when I'm out with Michael; that's for sure."

"You mean, like walking around naked except for a collar and leash? That doesn't cut it in currency futures, or whatever it is that you do?"

"Yeah, mostly futures contracts, and no, the way you saw me Sunday night wouldn't be such a great idea. Doesn't quite go with my 'kick ass and take names' persona on the trading floor."

Both women paused thoughtfully while serving food onto their plates and beginning to eat. After a few bites, Melissa asked, "So how does it work? I mean, being a super aggressive trader by day and a submissive by night?"

"The transitions can be... odd." Both women smiled at Deborah's droll observation. Then she continued more seriously, "I'm competitive as hell when it comes to business. Probably something I learned growing up in Israel. But it seems like the only way I can really relax away from work is having a dom who makes me submit. When Michael tells me what to do... I just let go of all the bullshit of the day and I'm his. I mean, when I'm away from work, the last thing I want to do is worry about being in charge, or even having an equal say. His control frees me."

Deborah laughed at the paradox of someone else's control being what set her free. With a wry smile, she waved her fork at Melissa, "You know what I mean, right?"

"Yeah, and I'm not sure I could explain it any better. It's just too weird. I mean, Erik had some sort of theory he told me -- something like the real meaning of being sexually submissive is we don't have to worry about pleasing our partner, because we can't... we're tied up, helpless, or whatever. So our partner, him being the big mean-ass dom of course, is the one who has to do all the work. He has to please us. Which, I guess, is sort of the way it really does work." She shook her head, "It's still weird as hell."

"But you love it."

"Abso-fucking-lutely."

"Just don't lose sight of the difference. Being submissive in sex doesn't mean anything about being submissive in life. Look at you and me. I'm pretty damn aggressive at my job, and I'm sure you are at your school."

"Yeah. There was some sort of twist in Erik's theory too, about sex making people feel vulnerable, and kinky fantasies being a way to feel safe."

Deborah snorted. "Erik's funny. He reads all these academic studies on sex research... and Archeology, and God knows what else."

"He told me that he read that stuff to relax at night when he's living in some strange town, rescuing a company. It sounds like he's some sort of weird warrior monk when he goes out on one of those assignments. I mean, he doesn't date or screw around. All he does is work."

"Well, you know how he can be kind of intense at times?"

"That's an understatement!"

"Well, he's waaay worse when he's on an assignment."

Melissa looked suddenly sober, "Oh shit."

"Yeah, it's like he drops off the face of the Earth for months at a time. He doesn't even really like to talk on the phone. He's just totally focussed on work."

"Yuck."

Deborah nodded sadly.

Melissa asked, "So is that part of what happened with you two, why you're with Michael now?"

"Yeah, plus, like I told you, our kinks never really aligned."

Melissa gave her a questioning look, trying to encourage her to continue.

Deborah nodded, "Well, you know he's into spanking and all."

Melissa barked out a laugh.

Deborah continued, "But unlike somebody else at this table, I really don't like being spanked, whipped, or any of that sh... stuff. Bad memories from childhood, I guess. Plus, Erik doesn't like to let a girl work up to it."

Melissa shot her another inquiring look.

"Most doms will start out soft, with a flogger or something else thuddy, before they work up to spanking, caning, or something really stingy. Erik's impatient. He'd rather be with a submissive who can leap right into stingy."

"You mean, someone like that other, unnamed person at this table?" Melissa mimed looking around, as though she was talking about someone other than herself.

"Yep. Exactly so. Anyway, with the mismatch in our tastes, plus his long absences, we just weren't going anywhere. Also, I warned you that he only lets people in so far. I don't know if it's the orphan thing, or the heartless rich bitch of a grandmother who raised him, or what -- but there's a wall somewhere inside him. The only one I ever saw get past it is his uncle."

"Yeah, Serena warned me too."

Deborah snorted again, "She may not be book-smart, but she knows people. I'll give her that. She's clever, like a street cat."

Melissa took another bite of her meal, hiding her surprise at Deborah's negative tone towards Serena. Looking around again at the wealthy sleekness of Deborah's apartment, she realized that even though Serena's background might be close to Melissa's own working class upbringing, it was probably very foreign to Deborah. She wondered at how she could feel so close, so quickly, to two very different women.

She knew that she had always been stretched between two worlds. One was the brick row home of her parents. The inside had been crowded with four noisy, growing kids, and the outside was still half covered in tattered aluminum siding that had been added sometime in the 1960's. Her other world existed within the cloistered wealth of the Ivy League universities, courtesy of full scholarships.

In her first year as an undergraduate, she'd been astounded by the careless wealth of her roommate. At the end of the year, her roommate had emptied a drawer full of laundry quarters into a trash can, not wanting to pack the coins and keep them over the summer.

Deborah interrupted her memories, "You seem lost in thought."

Melissa grinned guiltily and glanced away to look across the living room. "I was wondering what this place looked like, decorated with carpet and fabric."

Deborah grinned in return, shaking her head a little ruefully. "Once Michael and I started spending a lot of time together, it was getting too hard to clean."

"Eww."

Deborah wagged her finger at Melissa again, although with a broad smile. "First, you're never supposed to make fun of somebody else's kink, especially around them. And second, yeah, it was pretty fucking gross to come back home to an apartment that smelled like a men's bathroom. When they came to take away the carpets and furniture, I told them I had a dog that I'd finally had to get rid of, cause he kept on peeing inside."

"Um, I'm sorry for the 'eww' reaction. I just, well, that is kind of weird."

"Like being whipped for fun is normal?"

"Point."

"Look, golden showers are pretty tame compared to other stuff, like edge play and so on."

"Um, 'golden showers,' 'edge play'?"

Deborah laughed, "Oh you are such a newb. Okay, a golden shower is playing with getting peed on, or peeing on. Michael likes it both ways, and, well, I've learned to enjoy it too. Especially since there's usually an orgasm or three involved. Pavlov didn't get it even half right. If you reward a kink with orgasms long enough... well now, just the smell of pee makes me horny. That's weird."

"Okaayy. And 'edge play'?"

"Yeah, that's people who really get off on cutting into skin with knives and needles and stuff."

Melissa's eyes went wide, "For real?"

"Really and truly. It's a lot more popular than you'd think. But people are careful about it. Remember: safe, sane, and consensual."

"Ah, that's got to stretch those boundaries kind of hard, doesn't it?"

"Not really. If you go to clubs enough, you'll run across it. You'll see it's not as freaky as it sounds. I mean, you want freaky? How about fat middle aged guys who get off being dressed in diapers?"

Melissa rolled her eyes.

"Me too, but hey, everyone has their own kink. For instance, I love being tied up and kept right at the edge of an orgasm for a long time. When Michael finally pushes me over the edge, God what an intense rush! Hey if he wants to pee on me and cum all over me afterward, I'm just as happy as I can to let him. If he wants me to pee on him, that's even easier. Well, at least once I learned how to pee standing up. It's a lot harder than you'd think it is."

"Um, never really tried, but I guess what you're saying makes sense. I mean, I saw how much Joseph got off on being a pony, even though it didn't really do much for me. Serena seems to like everything, though."

"She's paid to."

Melissa flinched internally, seeing again that Deborah didn't like Serena.

Deborah seemed to notice Melissa's reaction this time and added, "I think her kink is somehow related to being an actress. She loves playing a role, almost any role, and pulling other people into the fantasy she is weaving. I'm not sure she has any one true kink; it's just like this is a world she's learned to swim in, plus she makes good money at it. And she's mostly able to make other people really enjoy the roles she plays."

"But not you?"

"Uh, I don't know. Probably not so much. We really come from different places."

"Yeah, I know you grew up in Israel, but we didn't really talk about it last night."

"I grew up just north of Tel Aviv. A lot of people who'd gotten rich in tech industries live there, so it's pretty nice, but it was also very separate from the rest of Israel. When I did my service in the Army, wow, that was a real shock."

"Then?"

"I came here for college, and wound up staying."

Both women had gradually stopped eating, so Deborah started to gather up the food containers when she suddenly exclaimed, "Shit! I forgot the wine. Would you like white or red?"

"Oh, either would be fine. I don't really know much about wine."

"Okay, go sit in the living room. I'll clean up and bring in a nice red from the Golan."

Melissa started to help clean up, but Deborah made shooing motions, so she headed into the living room. She wandered around, looking at the art while Deborah was busy in the kitchen.

When she heard Deborah opening the wine, Melissa walked over to the couch. She stood in front of the couch hesitantly, wondering if she was supposed to arrange her skirt, so she sat with bare buttocks on the leather, or if that rule only applied to stools.

Deborah brought in two full wine glasses and paused, puzzled to find Melissa staring at the couch. Melissa explained her quandary. Deborah laughed and set down the wine glasses. Then she reached down and pulled her t-shirt off over her head, revealing her naked breasts. Reaching down again, she casually unsnapped and unzipped her fatigues, letting them fall away. She stepped away from the pile of clothing, smooth and naked. Picking up her wine glass and sitting down, she announced, "Problem solved."

Melissa grinned and started to undress as well. She asked, "so is it a pretty universal rule, that people in kink don't wear underwear?"

"Oh, I don't know. I usually wear underwear at work, unless Michael tells me not to on a particular day. I'd guess that most subs don't wear underwear at home, or around their Masters when they're out with them. Certainly not at a kink event. It's kind of about being available to your Master, whenever he, or she, wants you."

Melissa finished undressing by pulling her blouse over her head and laying it on a chair with the rest of her clothes. She paused for a moment, "Can I ask another question?"

Deborah made a welcoming gesture and replied, "Shoot."

"Um, how is it that you're so smooth down below? Erik too. I mean, no razor stubble, no dark hairs under the skin?"

"Laser hair removal. It's all gone, never to come back."

"Oh. Does it hurt?"

"Less than a Brazilian hair wax every month."

"I'd believe that! I did a Brazilian once. Fucking ow!"

"Yeah, though if you find somebody who knows what they're doing, it's not so bad." Deborah patted the sofa next to her. "Grab your wine, Come sit down."

Melissa complied, but when she sat down, she complained, "Whoa! That's cold."

"Snuggle in, sissy."

Melissa pouted, "Ha!" but she did scoot over and let Deborah wrap an arm around her. Melissa teased her by protesting, "You just wanted to see my nipples pop out."

Deborah teased, "Are you sure it's just the cold leather that's responsible?" She reached and stroked one of Melissa's nipples. Caught by surprise, Melissa gasped. As Deborah's fingers drifted past Melissa's suddenly sensitive nipple, Melissa tried her best to repress a shudder.

Deborah smiled knowingly, "See what I mean?"

"Cheater."

They both laughed and stopped to sip their wine. Melissa gathered her courage and asked, "Okay, so what is it that suddenly has turned the idea of making out with another woman into something that's... I don't know... acceptable? I mean, I don't think it's like I've gone all lesbo. When I fantasize, it's still men, at least mostly. And when my fantasy involves a woman, it's generally because a man is part of it. But the whole girl-girl thing has gone from something that's sort of yucky/scary to, well, something that's fun, like for a distraction, or for friendship, or... I don't know."

Deborah looked thoughtful, and took a slow sip of her wine. "I'm not sure. I definitely prefer men too, but I guess I've always been open to enjoying women also. As I've started thinking more about having children, I've even wondered if a long-term relationship with a woman might make sense. Michael's wonderful, but like I told you, he was clear from the start that he doesn't want any more kids."