Sideic

** This chapter is for Tess(UK), and all the girls in the bathroom at the club. Don't be too hard on Erika, ok? **

The sun was high in the sky before we all finally shambled out of the unit and headed down the street.

Steve had offered that I could borrow some of his clothes, but I giggled, "Nope, I'm quite happy taking a walk in 'last night's dress'." Then I winked, "But I draw the line at underwear. I'm afraid I'll have to go without." I turned to Wayne and said, "You can keep those as a trophy."

Wayne had been in a kind of daydream the whole morning, and was momentarily confused my my remark. Then he remembered, reached into his pocket, and produced my little thong. "A.. are you sure?" He asked in a hopeful tone.

I moved close to him and in a dramatic, husky whisper, said, "Oh, Wayne. You earned them! You took me. You had me completely. They're yours." I toyed with the delicate elastic in his outstretched hand, "I wouldn't want you to ever forget our little moment!" I closed his hand around them carefully, then kissed him on the cheek with a giggle before bouncing back to into Steve's arms.

Wayne raised his hand with the thong in it, half opening it again, and also raised an eyebrow, in enquiry towards Steve, seemingly in deference, recognizing that Steve and I were quite obviously together. Steve just chuckled and said, "You heard the lady." And Wayne then quickly stuffed the tiny garment back into his pocket. It wasn't easy, because he now had an erection which was making access to his trouser pocket more complicated, but he managed.

Erika, meanwhile, had emerged from the bathroom looking, as usual, a million bucks. Steve, strangely blind to her charms, didn't even seem to notice.

"Oh, well if that's the case, I guess these are yours, Steve," she stated as she slid her own knickers down to the floor and stepped out of them, looking for all intents and purposes like a princess in her graceful movements. She headed towards Steve with a cheeky grin, offering him the knickers.

I moved between them to intercept her, reaching out and snatching the pretty little piece from her hands, with a faux-sulky tone complaining, "I should think those would be mine, actually, after what I went through!"

We all laughed, and she agreed, "Well, when you put it that way I suppose you did earn them," then she leaned in and in a stage whisper added, "and if you ever want to earn another pair, just let me know!"

So the four of us were a happy bunch, chattering our way out the front door. Steve held it open for two young women who were on their way in, and I swear I heard one of them just as the door swung shut behind, saying, "Hey wasn't that the naked chick from last..." BOOM. The heavy door found its home.

The coffee shop was already busy. It was a Saturday morning, and plenty of people were apparently looking for a mid-morning pick-me-up. We ordered, and luckily found a small table that we could crowd around. The atmosphere was busy and happy.

Somehow, amid the buzzing din, my attention was caught by the sound of an oddly familiar voice, with its posh accent and plumb annunciations, "My dear man, a cup of tea is not made with boiled water. It is made with boil-ING water. And no milk should come within 3 inches of it until it has had sufficient time to draw!"

I craned around to see, but we were sitting, and it was too crowded. The others didn't seem to have heard it, but I was intrigued. I stood up, but of course, I'm hopelessly short and somehow the place was full of people better suited to a basketball court than a coffee shop.

My friends didn't object as I ducked away, finding my path through the crowd like Dr Livingstone through jungle undergrowth, one step at a time, stopping, changing course, etc. Many of these lumbering giants didn't know I existed until I bumped against their elbow, or stomach, apologizing all the way. They will surely have been wondering what this Lilliputian woman was trying to do!

I finally emerged near the counter, but I couldn't see who might have been saying those things about tea. It was hopeless trying to search the shop at my height. I even entertained the idea of jumping up on the counter to look around, before simultaneously realizing that, firstly, I would be invited to leave, and secondly, I was wearing no underwear in a very short dress.

I made my way back to the table and found, to my amazement, that the peculiar old lady from the bathroom at the club was sitting in my spot! With a little pot of tea and a tea cup, and an elaborate period costume from somewhere around the end of the Nineteenth Century, perhaps.

"Oh, there you are!" Erika called out. "Come and meet Miss Havisham."

The elderly lady turned and smiled, and looked all the way through me, into my very soul. I was transfixed in her polite gaze. She saw everything, my obsessions, my fantasies, my obscene lusts, and just... everything. I was so naked in her gaze, completely exposed and defenseless. She looked over my entire psyche effortlessly, as I, like a butterfly pinned to a board, was fully open to examination.

The weird thing about it was that, although I knew I was stripped bare in this woman's eyes, I didn't feel threatened. Something about her was motherly, comforting, even approving. I felt safe.

"I was just hearing the story of how last night went," Miss Havisham spoke as though our moment, my exposure, her knowledge of my deepest and closest held secrets, had not just happened.

My own head was spinning. I was having trouble making sense of what was going on. All I could manage was, "Oh! Um... oh."

"It seems," she continued. "That my assessment in the ladies' room was correct."

It was a statement, not a question. She had a way of asserting leadership in the conversation, through... what? Her tone, I guess. Her presence.

"Oh, yes," I managed. "Thank you for that. It could have got ugly."

She eyed me with something that was probably amusement before continuing, "Indeed."

She turned back to address the others, "Now, where were we? Ah yes. You had just been surprised in the elevator, by a middle-aged couple. What happened next?"

Everyone seemed reluctant to continue the story. Perhaps if I had not been there they might have been more inclined. But even with this woman's powerful coercive effect, nobody seemed keen to tell the next part, where I was ravaged by all three of the others, in one way or another. A disgraceful spectacle, and one that I didn't want aired in this coffee shop, speaking to a perfect stranger!

"It... um. It was a happy ending. For everyone," I quickly offered a conclusion to the story, moving to Steve and taking his hand as if to demonstrate.

Miss Havisham looked at me, and as soon as my eyes met hers my mind was overwhelmed with the memory of shamelessly enjoying a spanking, then enthusiastic anal sex, and then a lascivious descent into pure obscenity between myself and Erika. Ok, mainly me.

It only took a moment, and then she released me. It was enough. I knew that she knew. Again, she was seeing everything about me. I had no covering. I was more naked and exposed than I had ever been. Still, I felt her benevolence. I just had no idea what was happening.

Erika looked down at her coffee and suddenly blurted out a sort of confession, "It all got way out of hand. I don't know what came over me. It's my fault and I'm so sorry." She looked up at me with teary eyes. For the first time since all this began, I realized I had not stopped to wonder how she felt about it. I mean, we were both playing this game. Didn't she want to?

Miss Havisham clinked her tea cup as she poured the contents of the little pot into it. It had the effect of drawing us all back to awaiting her next comment. With such a simple gesture she had taken control of the conversation once again, and we all were entranced.

She daintily poured the tea, deposited three quarters of a teaspoon of sugar into it, and stirred it gently as she added the most diminutive little dribble of milk. Unhurriedly, she raised the cup to her lips, and as if sharing the experience vicariously, we all waited in anticipation as she tasted it. After a moment she replaced the cup and gave a small "hmmph" of mild approval. The tension in the air was dispelled.

"I'm not sure you fully understood the game you were playing, my dear," she finally said to Erika, who clearly was not enlightened by the remark, and even appeared to be confused by it. As was I.

She had stopped talking, but Miss Havisham still had all of our attention. It just didn't seem like she had said everything she wanted to say. Or perhaps, had not said everything we needed her to say, to explain her previous remark.

Finally, she spoke on, "Young lady," she turned to me. "What are we going to do with you?"

The question was simple, and seemingly innocent, but it threw me into a lustful spin. The tone of it, to my mind, was like a disapproving school teacher about to administer a deliciously humiliating spanking in front of my classmates. My mind raced into several wild fantasies as I was transfixed in her gaze. The fantasies then coalesced into a single overriding one: I imagined Erika rising from her seat, moving behind me as a partial shield between me and the surrounding crowd, and lifting my dress so that just these friends at the table would see my nakedness. It was a vivid fantasy, crystal clear in its detail. It hung in my mind as an answer to her question.

Immediately, Erika rose from her seat and moved behind me. She slid my dress up over my hips, exposing me to the boys and to Miss Havisham for several long moments. She then lowered the dress and returned to her seat. The next moment, the spell was broken and we all gasped.

"W...what just happened?" I asked, bewildered.

Erika's both hands were over her mouth as she blurted, "Oh my god I'm so sorry! I don't know why I did that. Why did I do that?" she demanded of Miss Havisham in a moment of partial realization that, whether she caused it or not, Miss Havisham might know the answer.

Erika was right. Miss Havisham had the answer.

Miss Havisham then told the most incredible story. Had I not been experiencing all these very peculiar things, I surely would not have believed it. But it rang true, and it explained a lot.

She told of a telepathic capability possessed by only a few people. She said I had that ability. She described how I, subconsciously, had been... manipulating? controlling? directing? Anyway, I had been making Erika play a role in my fantasies.

She said it began in an elaborate set of suggestions and prompts to cause Erika to invite two men to our apartment, and then "trick" me into participating. It went on with my increasing use of this capability to manipulate and encourage Erika in participating in ever more bold adventures, all the while myself playing the poor victim of her seemingly demanding domineering.

It was I who had designed last night's events. It was I who had arranged, prompted, suggested, and controlled Erika into the appearance of being a big bully through the whole adventure. I almost pushed it too far at the club, apparently, and Miss Havisham had felt she should intervene. She also managed to pre-warn Steve because of her own additional faculty, which is a kind of prescience that she employed to tell him just enough so that he didn't get blindsided by the strange game he would be ensnared into.

When she had finished telling the story, it was my turn to have both hands over my mouth in shock. I looked from face to face around the table, wondering if any of this was real. Was I some sort of monster? What was wrong with me? Had I been controlling all these people like puppets in my own bizarre, obscene, shameful little fantasy?

"The attribute only occurs in women, and the effect only works on women," Miss Havisham added without emotion, seemingly in answer to my unspoken question.

My eyes met Erika's. It was my turn to weep an apology. I didn't know where to begin. I was about to start gushing an incoherent, blubbering attempt when she stopped me. "You know," she said in a level tone. "That all makes a lot of sense." She turned to look at Miss Havisham briefly to add, "Really, I get it. That explains a lot." Then she turned back to me, "But I've gotta say," her own eyes suddenly welled, as mine were pouring tears down my face. "I had a lot of fun," she concluded earnestly and tenderly.

We embraced warmly, both of us sniffling and half-laughing at ourselves in a moment of implicit forgiveness.

"I thought I was coming here today to offer you an opportunity to come to my manor house," Miss Havisham eventually said, concluding the moment between Erika and me. "But I see your situation is somewhat different now", somehow, mentally, she indicated my budding relationship with Steve, or at least, I clearly understood that to be her meaning. She was right. I wouldn't be looking for further adventures with Erika. Steve and I would make our own fun together.

"But I have discovered something most unexpected," she continued, looking at Erika. I turned from Miss Havisham to look at Erika, and saw, for the briefest moment, the expression on her face as though she had seen a miracle. Her eyes were excited and wide, and she was clearly enraptured, but I had no idea what it was about. I looked back at Miss Havisham for explanation.

"I think you would enjoy the manor, my dear. Take my card. Drop in for morning tea some time. No need to call, I'll know you're coming. I think we can... cater... to your needs," Miss Havisham handed a small, embossed, decoupage card to Erika.

Miss Havisham addressed us both, "The reason you made such a convincing, sensitive, and responsive domme, my dear, is because you are profoundly submissive. And of all the dommes, the ones who are truly submissive are the most... effective. They empathise, you see. They enjoy vicariously through their submitted partner, the pleasures of submission, even as they dominate."

I looked from Miss Havisham to Erika, and then back again. Erika was softly crying in response to this revelation, clearly grateful. Miss Havisham was unmoved, simply speaking in a matter-of-fact tone. I was amazed. I had never thought of Erika as being submissive. She never showed that side around me.

"It is also," Miss Havisham continued. "The reason why you were so easily manipulated into the role you played in this little scamp's erotic adventure," she gestured playfully at me. "It was a little ironic that she was directing you into a domme role, but the point is that you were being directed, and as a sub, that's what you responded to. And that's also why you had fun."

With this, she sat back in her chair and seemed to focus completely on her cup of tea. Erika was wide-eyed, and kept looking at the pretty little card. I could tell she was going to pursue that, whatever it was all about. We looked at each other and shared a genuine moment of mutual appreciation and friendship. We had been through an incredible adventure together.

Finally, I glanced at the boys. What were they making of this very strange conversation? They both seemed oddly distracted, each of them seemingly paying attention to other things going on in the busy little coffee shop. Was this another of Miss Havisham's little talents? I didn't have time to ask her. She suddenly stood, and bustled herself away with polite goodbyes.

As if nothing had happened, Wayne casually said to Steve, "Ok, SJ, I'd better go. I've got rehearsal this evening," and we all stood up, recognizing our morning tea was over.

"SJ?" I quizzed Steve. "That was on your robe. What's the J for?"

"Jeremy," he shrugged. "After my Dad."