The Submission of Amelia
Part II
It had been a week since that fateful night at the club and Amelia still couldn't get the man out of her head. The things he had said, the things he had done, and his presumptiveness that should we even think of reaching out him still sat heavy on her mind. She had gone home that night and cum so hard that she'd had to change the sheets on her bed before she could sleep that night, but there was no way she was going to call him. A slow ache entered her center just thinking about the man that told her she could call him Sir.
"Amelia!" She heard behind her, snapping her out of her thoughts, turning to the sound of her name. A large smile crossed her face as she say Jazmin, her best friend and partner in crime behind her. "Where were you just now?" She asked, "I've been calling you for 5 minutes and you just kept walking."
"Shit, love, sorry I didn't hear you," she said simply, not wishing to explain where her thoughts had really been. Both girls worked at the local coffee shop and that's where Amelia had been heading, not surprising Jazmin was close on her heels. "Do you work today?" Her eyes meeting her best friend's.
"Naw, for some reason I was craving crappy coffee so I thought I'd hit the shop," she said, laughing gently. They both were constantly ribbing the owner about the coffee, which was the best in the city. The fresh made pastries, breads, and other delicacies wafting through the streets. Amelia could smell the cinnamon and raisins of the fresh baked loafs coming out of the doorway, enticing people into the shop.
"Well, then for my rudeness in not hearing you let me buy you a cup, huh?" She said, looping her arm through Jazmin's. Finishing their trek arm-in-arm.
"So, seriously, where were you just now?" Jazmin asked, a tiny flicker of concern crossing her gorgeous features. "You've been out of sorts all week Ami, tell me what's going on." Her words left little room for discussion.
Sighing heavily, Amelia grabbed her coffee and scone and headed to a table near the back, one that would afford them some privacy. She plopped down on the soft cushion of the booth, a flood of memories assailing her. "Jaz, I don't even know where to start." She said, taking a sip of her iced coffee. "You know the club I like to go to." A statement more than a question.