Namaste Yoga

Waking up in Charlie's bed the next morning, Emmy realized she wasn't going to make it into work. Quietly, and without disturbing Charlie's sleep, she slipped out of bed and padded naked across the rug to find her phone. Her head was foggy, mostly from the alcohol and then she remembered how much she smoked, her mouth a sticky combination of old weed and Charlie's...Charlie's...

Oh fuck.

The enormity of what she'd done rushed in as she sat on the toilet, the room seeming to narrow and expand with her heartbeat. As her pee hit the bowl, she smelled herself and remembered the intensity of her night as Charlie's fuck-toy. That's how she had remembered it going in, and nothing about what they'd done,

she had begged to do

, she corrected herself, changed her frame of mind.

What's the right thing to do now? Get dressed and sneak out? Wait for Charlie to wake up? Slip back into bed and continue?

At the last thought she felt a pulse of excitement and shook her head in disbelief.

What have I turned into?

She realized she couldn't sneak out. Her clothes were locked in Charlie's car in the garage.

Well, you could you know.

But then she'd have to figure out how to get back to her car and she wasn't sure where her panties were. She shrugged, resigned, and washed her face, not ready to fully wake up. Her arousal increased a little as she stared at the naked women in the mirror next to Charlie's reflection in bed.

You're still her fuck-toy, you stupid whore.

But the voice had lost its sharpness, like it was just going through the motions. The other was silent, sleeping or

luxuriating

in the feeling of being Charlie's toy. She dried her face and returned to the bedroom, eyeing the bed and wanting nothing more than to slip between the sheets to embrace warmth and sleep and...the images of what was likely to happen amped up her arousal, threatening to destroy any chance of sleep.

* - * - * - *

"

OhmygodohmygodOHMYGOD. Please stop pleasestopShitshitsshit!!!!"

Emmy pushed her hands into Charlie's hair to move her mouth from her clit.

FUCKKK!!!

She lay back exhausted as soon as the pressure had lessened. The enormity of the change in her since last night hit her again: she was officially a lesbian! She closed her eyes tight squeezing tears out their corners.

Whore, more like it!

But the other voice just stayed dreamily quiet, whispering how it was all right, the memory of Shannon and Willow and how she had let them play with her, forced her to get that tattoo.

Don't worry about it. It's just a thing. You enjoy it when women play with you.

But it wasn't just that. She needed what Charlie had forced her to do. It wasn't that she was a whore, or a lesbian, or stupid. She needed to beg for it. Plain and simple. She'd known that all along, all the way back to John, but now she knew it was a fact. It didn't matter who she was with: Greg, Yogi Jacob, Charlie...Julie. OH GOD, Julie! She felt her muscles spasm at the memory of their conversation...when was it? Just a couple of nights ago!!!

She looked down at a movement and saw Charlie staring back at her, her face split with a smile, shiny and wet. She stared at Charlie's tongue slowly licking her lips.

"You've smelled him."

Emmy didn't need her to explain and she understood the implied question. She nodded.

"It turns you on, right?"

Emmy's thoughts whirled back to the studio sessions and the way her body responded as Yogi Jacob's aroma would drift to her nose. She hadn't stopped nodding. Just the memory of his smell sent a pulse through her.

How could that be possible????

She couldn't imagine getting turned on after what Charlie had just done.

"You know you do the same thing to people, right?"

She didn't answer, her thoughts lingering on Yogi Jacob's smell and her embarrassment at how her own musk was so strong and telegraphed her arousal to whomever was close enough to smell it.

"I...." She didn't know how to answer. She'd never really thought about it like that. Was that even possible?

A sharp sensation on her thigh startled her and she bucked her pelvis in response. "Ouch!"

Charlie giggled, her fingernail tracing a path along the fox's tail toward Emmy's lips. "I didn't have a chance to really look at this in detail before." Her finger continued to the fox's nose. "It's really beautiful. What's the story?"

Emmy moaned at the expectation of Charlie's finger. "I...I'm...it's...sensitive." She meant the skin. She'd realized after getting it that any touch near it was magnified. At first she figured it was just nerves healing, but when it never went away, she just came to expect it. Even at odd times, when the hem of her underwear rubbed against it, or a swimsuit. But she knew the double meaning. It wasn't just the skin, but the very fact of the thing's existence.

"And?" Charlie let up a little, but kept her finger moving along the image's outline, first away and then close to Emmy's swollen lips.

Emmy whimpered and realized she wasn't off the hook. She was still Charlie's toy. She might be Charlie's toy forever. As she focused on the sensation of her...friend? Mistress? Lover?'s finger she revealed more about herself than she'd ever told anyone before.

You've really done it this time!

She couldn't deny the warning voice. It was true. She was confessing her true self to this woman she barely knew. She shivered at the possible fall-out, but her mis-givings didn't stop the flow of words.

"Nice," Charlie complimented her, sliding up to press their bodies together. "That was sweet." She planted kisses all along Emmy's face, her hands sliding between Emmy's legs to press against her.

So wet. So delicious.

The critical voice had slinked off in disgust. Emmy just lay there, exhausted, spent, basking in the moment.

The rest of the morning returned to some kind of normalcy, if being naked even as Charlie was dressed was normal. Or relinquishing to Charlie and begging to

not

get cleaned up after she tried to start a shower, was some kind of normal. Instead Charlie made her watch as Charlie showered and prepared for the day. How normal was that? Was that the new normal? Or listening to Charlie chat about the studio over breakfast with Emmy sitting stripped and exposed was somehow

normal!

But she was prepared to make it the new normal if that's what Charlie wanted. She hadn't been as open with anyone as she'd been with her in the past hour, and she felt as if she had shed a hard shell, or opened up a completely new and undiscovered territory in herself.

She kept looking at the clock and wondering when they'd go to retrieve her car, and whether Charlie would let her get dressed, and her mind raced at what was happening and what she had done.

"Sadly," Charlie broke into her thoughts, "it's time to get to work." She leaned over from the sink and kissed Emmy on the head. "I just have a couple of things to do and then we can go." At Emmy's alarmed reaction, Charlie laughed. "Your clothes are in the car," she giggled, shaking her head. "You can get dressed on the way."

Once back at the bar's parking lot, Charlie turned off her engine. "I had a fucking fantastic time." She looked over to study Emmy's reaction. "You okay?" Her hand brushed strands of hair from her toy's face. "I'd like to do this again." She waited a couple of heartbeats. "A lot. And a lot of times." She leaned in and kissed Emmy's cheek.

Emmy felt a surge of emotion so strong she couldn't control the tears that welled up with it. She turned, smiling apologetically and pressed her lips hard against Charlie's to let her know she would love to do it again. And again. And again. Her hand drifted down to move Charlie's further up her thigh, press against her naked pussy. Charlie hadn't given her panties back -- a trophy? An admission of her submission? She moaned and sighed as Charlie pulled away, the woman's face all smiles and lust.

"I think this is the beginning of beautiful relationship, Emmy. Not just for you and me, but as part of the team."

She hadn't heard any of it, the pounding of her heart in her ears combined with the surge of emotion drowning out any words. She nodded and pushed herself out of the car to get herself home to a nice, long, warm bath.

* - * - * - *

It felt like years since her cocktails with Julie and Sunday brunch. Her anxiety from Julie's parting words, getting Greg "properly on board" sparked fantasies about what that actually could mean. But that had been eclipsed by her emerging relationship with Charlie. It was only after realizing it was Sunday and she had a brunch to prepare for that she'd recovered enough from Thursday night to return to Julie's come-on the Wednesday night before.

Throughout the couple of days since she'd slept with Charlie, she had been in an uninterrupted state of arousal, feeling as if she were constantly wetting herself. She had decided to wear thick panty liners, which she changed almost hourly; it was the only alternative. Even though she didn't go into work on Friday, even walking around the house she'd soaked her sweatpants. All day Saturday running errands, she was mortified at the thought of staining her clothes. The weather report forecasted Sunday to be hot, but she didn't dare wear a dress or shorts. She had picked a sleeveless blouse and a pair of light cotton slacks, hoping she could keep it together long enough not to stain them.

A nervous and emotional wreck, she knocked on their door.

"Hey!" Julie embraced her, smiling. "I can't tell you how happy I am that you came."

Relief washed over her at Julie's disarming and gracious welcome. She hadn't known what to expect, but her friend's sincere warmth dissolved her worry.

You've been so stupid!

"I...I've been so...distracted and worried," Emmy began, looking around to see if Greg was in earshot, "about what you said to me when you left the other night." She walked into the kitchen and set down her food. "Where is he?" She whispered.

"I told him to take a walk." Julie started pulling ingredients from the fridge. "I thought you and I should talk alone first."

Emmy looked over at her, waiting.

"Grab the glasses, let's enjoy the sun." Julie swept up a wine bottle and left toward the porch.

"I can't remember, do you toke?" She looked up as Emmy joined her at the table.

She shrugged as if to say, 'who doesn't?' thinking back again to what she'd done on Thursday with Charlie, and poured out the wine, shivering at where the conversation was likely to go.

"Okay, Emmy. Here's to a new beginning." She sucked in a drag from the joint and passed it along, turning her attention to the glass of wine.

They sat imbibing, soaking up the sun and letting the chemicals settle in. Emmy began to feel her muscles loosen up even as the dope sent her thoughts into tailspins. "Fuuuuuckkk," she exhaled, the smoke wrapping her brain in a wooly blanket.

"Yes...fuck indeed," Julie smiled, her eyes half-shut. "About that."

Emmy's heart jumped.

Fuck. Here it comes. Whatever it is.

The only thing keeping her from completely freaking out was her encounter with Charlie. She didn't need Julie. She didn't need Greg. She kept reminding herself nobody was forcing her to be here, to do anything. Did she even

like

them? She couldn't keep a thought long enough to make a train, let alone a single idea. Like. Them. All in all, she felt like they could be friends. She liked Julie for sure, but she'd been so hung up about Greg, she hadn't really thought of him as a friend. Now, and what about Charlie? She...

"...make sure," Julie had been saying something. "I wanted to hear it from your mouth. Is it for real?"

Emmy didn't need her to repeat herself to figure out what she was saying. She tried to find a way to say it without making it sound like she was a complete freak.

"It's okay! Really! You can't expect any judgment from

me

, right? I mean, I drop my pants for anyone who looks fuckable. Always have. Can't help it. I'm surprised I'm not knocked up or have AIDS by now." She said it with a smile, but Emmy could tell she was serious. "So, it doesn't matter to me one way or the other, and I trust Greg explicitly. We couldn't have this thing going if I didn't, but you have to agree, I can't just assume he got it right, right?"

The smoke and alcohol had done a number on her head.

What the fuck. She knows already. What are you afraid of?

She smiled inwardly. There was a lot to be worried about. Julie could take advantage of the situation somehow...all sorts of images flashed through Emmy's brain, and most disturbingly, they only increased her arousal. Thankfully, she'd remembered to put a Maxi-pad in. She was certain it was soaked by now.

"Emmy? You want to tell me, right?"

It was like a script, or a trigger, or something.

Yes, goddammit!

She looked at the table and nodded, like a shy teenager. Something about pot always made her regress. "Yes," she whispered. "He probably told you the truth."

Julie shifted a little, turning to face her. "But that's not...I...I need to hear you say the words. You don't know what Greg told me, or what I think I heard. Tell me." Her tone was soft, gentle and sincere.

Emmy exhaled with a whoosh, remembering her breathing exercises from yoga. "It's true, Julie." She looked up at her. "I need to ask people to let me do the things they want me to do anyway." She screwed up her face trying to make sense of what she'd just said. "Did that make any sense?"

Julie smiled, suppressing a giggle, and the two of them burst out laughing. "You...say...what?" She could barely get the words out between spasms.

Emmy recovered, gathering her wits. "I get really really horny when a...somebody," she was going to say 'a guy,' but the night with Charlie stopped her, "makes me tell them...er...ask them...oh...fuck it. I need to beg for it, Julie. It's as simple as that." She looked at her, hoping Julie would be gentle with her revealing her innermost thoughts.

Julie took another hit and studied her. "That...is...so...hot. I'm creaming my jeans just hearing you say it."

Emmy blushed, visualizing Julie's red bush soaked and matted. It triggered her own arousal and she could smell herself, her pussy spasming and releasing more lubrication.

"Like..." Julie began, "right now? What do you want to do...right now?" She finished her sentence, lowering her voice, clearly excited by the possibilities. She unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it off, revealing she hadn't put on a bra, her pale breasts and light pink nipples hard.

Emmy's face heated up even more and she shook her head. "Noooo, please...nooo." She barely whispered it, looking away and down, trying to ignore the images in her head: stripping, watching as Julie pressed her lips to her...to her...pussy, getting caught as Greg came home...knowing they would force her to take him while Julie watched. She groaned in her mind, then realized it had come out.

"Tell me," Julie urged her, standing up, unzipping her jeans and peeling them down to reveal she hadn't worn any underwear either. She slipped out of her sandals and stood, hands on her hips, waiting. "Please, let yourself be the person you are. We don't have any secrets, do we? I tell you everything." She sat back down, leaning forward, her face a mixture of curiosity and lust. "Tell me, Emmy. What do you want to do?"

Emmy could feel her legs getting wet, the pad long overdue for a change. She didn't dare look down, or even move for fear she'd gush down her leg, exposing herself even further. Making her even more self-conscious, the pot and alcohol had fuddled her brain: each heartbeat pulsed in her clit and vagina.

"Like," Julie offered, as if she were a science experiment, "are you like totally turned on right now and too embarrassed to tell me? If I were to feel you up, would my fingers be completely soaked? God, I know I am!"

Emmy froze, feeling her pulse and imagining Julie stroking her, pushing her legs open and probing her. She moaned again, her inner voices tripping over each other, stoned and confused. "Please," she whispered, "please...Julie...fuckkkkk."

"Tell me, Emmy. Just tell me what you need. I'll do it. Whatever you want, I'll help." She moved closer to her, her hands stroking Emmy's arms. She leaned in and kissed her ear lobe, whispering to tell her what she needed...

...pushing Emmy over the edge. She turned her face to push her lips against Julie's, kissing her, bringing her hands up to hold her shoulders for support.

You fucking slut! You lesbo! One night with a woman and you can't get enough!

But the other voice was coaxing her in a dreamy tone, knowing how wonderful it would feel to have sex with a woman again. She had to know if it would feel as good as it had the other night with Charlie.

Julie slipped her tongue between Emmy's lips and gently stroked her back, letting her know it was all right before she pulled away, a look of pure pleasure mixed with surprise. "That was unexpected, Emmy. Unexpected and wonderful. But you know what I want to hear, right?" She stared into her eyes. "More important, you know what you need to do...need to say, yes?"

"I...fuck, Julie, I...all I can see is being naked in front of you, of you kissing my...my pussy, licking me, making me cum, and making Greg watch us...until...ohhhh," she groaned as Julie drifted her fingers down her neck to slip into her blouse.

"Just tell me what you need, Emmy. It's okay. We're friends. I'm so turned on by you. Tell me." She waited, her fingers sliding along the top of Emmy's bra. "Beg me," she whispered.

How could those two words do the trick? Emmy had lost all control, the fires blazing up from her center, her juices tickling her inner thigh, her breathing barely regular enough to keep her from losing consciousness. "Please," she panted, "please take off my blouse, strip me, expose me, make me strip for you, make me show myself to you. Please, please, please." Her sentence trailed off to nearly silence.

Julie reacted immediately, unbuttoning her blouse and pulling it out of her slacks, slipping it off onto the floor. In a moment, she unhooked her bra, letting her breasts spill out. "I am so fucking hot hearing you say that, Emmy. I can't wait to hear what else you need..."

Emmy groaned at the images welling up from her fantasies as the cool air and hot sun hit her nipples and tender skin. She closed her eyes, immersing herself in the sheer sensuality of it. She stood up, knowing Julie could smell her, and waited, her arms at her side. "Strip me, Julie. Please. Strip me naked, make me spread my lips open for you to see me, smell me...can you smell how turned on I am? I need to be exposed, to show you how wet I am, how much I need you to make me cum. I need to cum so badly, I'm so horny, ever since you whispered in my ear at the bar..." she rambled on, stoned and drunk as Julie unbuttoned her slacks to let them fall to the floor.

Julie saw the pad pushing out from her underwear, stopping her progress. "Are you on your period?" She asked softly, as she slipped her fingers into her waistband.

"No," she giggled, looking down, her eyes out of focus. "You'll see. Just take them off and smell me." The sound of her own words demanding to be smelled like a bitch in heat, the humiliation of her self-debasement only caused her to gush more.

As Julie pulled her underwear down her legs, the pad stayed stuck to Emmy's vagina, the smell of her arousal thick. She slipped her fingers between the cotton and her friend's lips to loosen the pad. Emmy gasped as her knuckle brushed against her clit, her legs almost buckling.