I never know what to expect with Steph. On one occasion, she might greet me at my door, purse at the ready, dressed like any girl ready for a "Hubby's home with the kids" day out. The next time she calls, we'll get the kids together and just talk over coffee amidst the yells and crashes from the toy room. But then, there are other days. Those are why I can never get enough of Steph.
On our last girls' night out, I took Steph into the role of confidant, a new one for the both of us. I had so few female friends, and she so few married ones, that our friendship solidified one night at a noisy club.
"I'm so sick of the routine with my sex life!" I had moaned to her. "He says 'suck me', then a few days later 'Oh, God, I'm going to come, fucking you', rounding out with 'can I fuck your ass'? Then wash, rinse and repeat!"
Steph's expression was thoughtful, but she didn't respond to my partially rhetorical rant that night.
Her answer came a couple weeks later, this time for a girl's night in. Hours into it, I was so loosened by margaritas and squeal-worthy chick flicks that our husbands would have whined through that her question didn't register to me right away. "Wait, what?" I giggled.
"I asked you how my little cupcake was doing today." Steph's face was calm, showing none of the flushed giddiness mine must have.
I blinked rapidly, not understanding. "I...um...I don't know", I responded, still giggling a little with my alcohol-infused fogginess.
The next moments seemed to happen very slowly in my blurry mind, but I found myself helpless to what was occurring. Steph had me laid on her coffee table, wrists and ankles cuffed to the legs, with my shirt and bra cut open before I uttered a word of protest. As my mouth hung open in surprise, she placed a candle like the one might find on a birthday cake- between my lips with the short command, "Close." My lips closed automatically, without a single thought.
Steph rose from her place on the couch, pacing before me. "Dee, honey, I thought a lot about what you said those few weeks ago. And I can fix it. I can give you what you want, break things out of the routine. But you have to be okay with it." She paused and looked at me. "Are you?" At my slow nod, she flinched. "There's more."
"I need you to trust me. Big time. Because there are things I would like to do to you that are...well, a bit different, and I'm not the type to let you say no once we start it. So, you have to trust me that you'll like what I do, even if you don't at first. Can you do that?"
Her expression was so hopeful, so devastating, naked and vulnerable. I couldn't help but nod. Her answering squeal of happiness made me smile, even as she straddled me, a wicked look in her eyes. "Then let's get started, cupcake." She leaned over me, unlocking the handcuffs and leading me into their kitchen.
On the counter near the dining room table, I saw several mixing bowls, ingredients, and utensils. Their presence was curious to me, but I had little time to think about it. Steph circled the table opposite me, gripping my ponytail to yank me backward over the top of it. My arms once again were cuffed down to the table legs, leaving my body stretched out on the table.
I heard her grab a mixing bowl off the counter. After a few passes of a spatula through the contents, Steph began filling a pastry bag.