Brandye and I had moved back to Philadelphia after a two-year stint in New York City. Moving around was driving me nuts. Every year or two, we moved. Usually it was a huge move, to another city, cutting ties, etc. It had been almost six years now that we'd been together and we'd moved five times. I hated moving. I absolutely hated it. But we had settled into our new apartment, a very spacious two bedroom in a swanky high rise. The area was nothing to sneeze at, 47th and Pine in University City/West Philadelphia. Close enough to the University of Pennsylvania to be prestigious, close enough to the apartment I lived before while in graduate school to feel familiar. And now, six months later, it was finally beginning to feel like home. I was spending time getting acclimated to my brutal commute to and from work, two hours in each direction, a killer commute if there ever was one. Most of my energy was spent on adjusting to that alone.
Why did we move so often? Well, sometimes it was my job. As an Assistant Professor, you had to go where the work took you. So, first it took me from Philadelphia to New York. Then, I found something in New Jersey. I was tenure track, so most likely I would stay in New Jersey. Other times we moved around when she quit her job (or managed to get fired). I was married to a woman that hated to work. It was an interesting reality for me considering how serious I took my job and how motivated I was to get tenure, securing my job for life. But we never marry those who are just like us, do we? No, not usually.
My wife, Brandye, was an absolutely stunning, half black/half Cherokee very talented, classically trained Opera singer. No work in that field for people of color, hence her frustration with the clerical crap jobs she was forced to occupy because I insisted she work. She was a charmer from the South, the Louisiana bayou area. And she was a real looker. Big bright eyes, thick brows, high cheek bones, nice sensual lips… She used to run track and she has the legs to prove it even as she approached 40. She's smart, talented, beautiful...you would think she'd be a happy person. She's not. She's frustrated that her career didn't take off. And whenever she gets on the phone with her mother, her mother never fails to remind her that she's a failure. It's painful to watch someone you love being tortured by their mother and themselves, but we all have to walk our own paths, right? It just creates a great deal of strain in our relationship, that's all.
And me? Well, I'm an Ivy League grad twice over who hailed from the housing projects of New York City. An enigma if there ever was one. I remember arguing with one of my graduate school professors who insisted I could not have been raised in the projects because I didn't speak like "them" or carry myself like "those people." While it was fun shattering his narrow perception of the people living in housing projects, it reminded me, as I had been reminded over and over in the past few years, that I faced an uphill battle.
Now, I don't see myself as a looker, although my wife has said to me time and time again "Gloria, I wouldn't have married an ugly woman." I have to take her word for it. To me, I'm very plain looking…albeit very different from the average black woman. Don't get me wrong, I follow the typical script in many ways. I'm thick in the thighs with quite a bit of "junk in my trunk." I have a pretty small waist but huge tits that were quickly losing the battle with gravity as I approached 35. And my face? I had dark chocolate skin with full lips, a fairly normal nose, huge bright eyes with pupils some said looked black, and perfectly arched thin brows. My hair was cut low, very close to my head and I had a perfectly shaped scalp that had attracted more than my fair share of admirers. I was okay. I wasn't repulsive but you wouldn't find me on a magazine cover any time in the near future.
Okay, but I'm not writing about me and my wife. I'm writing about a couple we met after having settled down in Philadelphia for the second time. They lived in our building, a few floors beneath us. We kept bumping into them in the elevator or outside while we walked our dog. Sometimes we were together and would bump into them as a couple, other times we would spot the couple, or part of the couple, when we were alone. Let me describe them. Dyanne was a tall, relatively thin light skinned woman who I could only describe as a soft butch (although that's not how she described herself). She had long dark dreadlocks, very nicely maintained by the way, and a body she spent hours working on in a gym. She described herself as a Transgendered Gay Male (don't ask), but she occupied the traditionally feminine role in her relationship. What did I mean by that? She cooked, did most of the cleaning and laundry, did most of the shopping, and she watched their two kids (two huge dogs) more often than her partner did. I found out later she had been in an abusive relationship with a man right before this lesbian relationship. She reminded me of the classic image of a battered woman, even in her current relationship. She was passive, unwilling to rock the boat, and leery of her partner's temper. When her partner flared up, she would back down and basically try to shrink herself into invisibility to avoid the wrath. Don't get me wrong, my wife and I also argued. I think any healthy couple argues and sometimes those arguments get a little out of hand. But this relationship was fascinating to watch. I've never seen a woman dominate another woman in such a way. It was…intriguing to say the least.
Why was it intriguing to me? Well, wait, let me not get ahead of myself. The other half of that couple's name was Jaden. Jaden. Hmmm…let's see. She was cinnamon brown, thick of build with a square frame. She had muscle, that was clear, but she was no bodybuilder. I wouldn't say she was fat, she was simply…thick. She was a few inches taller than I was, so probably five feet eight inches, her hair was cut very low, but it didn't hug her scalp as mine did, and she had what I would call masculine features, a square chin and forehead, thick brows, a pug nose…and the most incredible pair of lips.
It wasn't what was on the outside that intrigued me, it was what was on the inside. Jaden was a pure Domme if I ever saw one. Her choice of profession, a lawyer, only confirmed that observation. And I? I was a truly submissive femme. People often mistook me for a soft butch, as my wife did, because of my haircut. But I'm not. I am a control freak that wants to relinquish control to a woman who can handle taking over the reigns. My wife was not this person. Because she was so unhappy with herself, and because she was an artist, she just didn't have the head to worry about paying bills on time. In fact, when we met, she was three months behind on her rent! I couldn't live like that. So, the person who I relinquished control to would have to be very responsible and sure of herself. Jaden was. When she said jump, Dyanne jumped. I'm sure it was because Dyanne was used to being abused, and Dyanne often told us she saw this behavior as abusive. I saw it as absolutely…titillating. And pretty much exactly what I was looking for, unbeknownst to me.
So, this couple is about the oddest encounter my wife and I have ever had. We'd met a couple that was made up of the women we really wanted. My wife wanted a looker who was unquestionably obedient. That was Dyanne. I wanted someone who owned her masculinity and was willing to persuade a woman to relinquish control. That was Jaden.
So, after bumping into each other enough times for us to smile when it happened, my wife finally invited this couple over to our place. Their first words to us? "We are not attracted to you." Okay, now how odd was that? No one said they were attracted to us. Anyway, it struck us, my wife and I, as odd that they would open with this and then launch into a conversation about their open relationship. Well, what I should say is that Dyanne slept with other women because she claimed Jaden was having some sexual problems. I knew right away the problem was. Dyanne wanted to be an equal in Jaden's bed and Jaden needed to be in absolute control in the bedroom. Didn't I tell you I was feeling this woman from day one? So, "open" meant Dyanne slept with other women and Jaden could if she wanted to, but I could see that Jaden grew more and more pissed about sharing her property. Like I said, she was a natural born Domme even if she didn't know it.
After our first get together, my wife and I decided they were fucking nuts. But I could tell Brandye had an itch for Dyanne. Dyanne was her type, well-bred, well-read, and willing to be wooed by a charmer. And I can admit now that even that early into the game, I really had an itch for Jaden. I had been reading about subs and Dommes for a while, I was obsessed with the idea in fact. But my wife really had a problem owning her dominant side. She thought it made her too masculine. So although I hungered for her to dominate me, she couldn't (or wouldn't). But I loved her, so I had swallowed that need.
Jaden wouldn't have that problem. I thought about that the first night we had them over for dinner and every time we hung out with them thereafter. Don't get me wrong, sometimes Jaden was so controlling with Dyanne it seemed like abuse. But it was only abuse because Dyanne didn't want to be controlled. I, on the other hand, didn't have a problem with Jaden's take charge attitude and often found myself, the ultimate feminist, defending Jaden to my wife. Even I was surprised about that. Defending a woman who seemed more in touch with her masculine side? I didn't say it made sense, it just was.
So, we double-dated for a few weeks, getting to know one another, hanging out, taking in movies, an Opera, trying new restaurants, going to concerts. We worked well as double-dates. We had similar backgrounds and similar interests. Dyanne and I often found ourselves teamed up against our partners, considering we were both avid feminists. But there was an underlying sexual tension between the four of us. I'm pretty sure I was not the only one to notice it.
So when did things begin to get weird? How did we go from double-dating to the next stage of this torrid relationship? Well, I had to attend a late meeting on campus and Dyanne had a meeting to attend with one of her grassroots organizations, leaving our two partners to dine alone one night. Things were not the same after that. Brandye was furious when I finally got home. She was annoyed that Jaden claimed she didn't have any money to pay for dinner. She was annoyed that Jaden had dominated the conversation. And after she rambled on for about an hour, I finally found out what was really bothering my wife. Jaden had admitted, after a few drinks, that she found me attractive. Well, why on God's green earth did she say that to my wife? My wife is not the most secure person in the world and she hated it when anyone was attracted to me. And surely this would change the nature of the relationship between the four of us. Now, what I didn't find out until quite some time later was that Brandye had expressed an interest in Dyanne during this dinner. She, of course, neglected to share that tidbit with me.
Anyway, I was secretly pleased that Jaden found me attractive. I thought there was something between us, but I hadn't been sure. So, when we met as couples for dinner later that week, I couldn't help but notice how Jaden held doors open for me, not for her partner. I couldn't help but notice how Jaden took it upon herself to order for me (something I found incredibly arousing for some odd reason). I couldn't help but notice how Jaden began to charm me, paying special attention to me, making sure I was always part of the conversation, making sure her foot brushed against mine more than one would expect if it was accidental. I was so enamored with this attention that I neglected to notice my wife seducing Dyanne. Seems our partners had made a bet to see who could get the other's partner into bed first. I tell you, leave two women with a truckload of masculine competition in the same room for a little while and they act just like fucking men. Anyway, swapping was an intriguing idea once I found out about it, but in the midst of it I was seriously aroused and feeling quite guilty for having these feelings for Jaden right under my wife's nose. My wife and I had a "don't ask, don't tell" policy about sleeping with other people (well, let me be honest, she had a don't ask don't tell policy for herself because she claimed I couldn't meet her sexual needs, but she didn't want me sleeping with anyone else). But this was a bit too close to home for that kind of policy, don't you think? And the truth was that if Jaden really made any serious effort to get me in bed, she would not meet with much resistance.
So this is how things progressed for a few weeks. We would double-date, Jaden would woo me and Brandye would woo Dyanne, and then we would go home where I would have to hear about how inappropriate Jaden had been with me (my wife's attempt to throw me off her scent). I wish I could complain about that time, but I couldn't. I was absolutely tickled pink to have a natural born Domme chasing after me. I didn't care if I was married or not! And when she looked at me with those piercing dark eyes, she and I were alone in the world, even if my wife was sitting at the same table with us.
The next bout of weirdness came a few weeks later. We had opted to order pizza and hang out in our apartment playing cards. Brandye and I were beating Jaden and Dyanne mercilessly. That's when Jaden suggested we swap partners. Yup, that's the word she used, "swap." A tingle ran up my spine, even though I knew it was only about the game we were currently playing. Brandye agreed right away, Dyanne agreed after some coaxing. But first, Brandye wanted to run and get more beer and Dyanne had to make a private phone call from their apartment. That left me and Jaden together. It never occurred to me that Brandye and Jaden had set up some "alone time" with their potential conquests.
So, I began to straighten up a little while we waited. Jaden asked if we had anything stronger to drink. I said I had some vodka and Brandye preferred cognac. Of course she chose the cognac. I must say I actually did pause when she expressed a desire for the cognac, wondering how Brandye would feel when she returned and this woman was drinking some of her very expensive liquor, but Jaden simply watched me with a raised brow. It didn't take long really, only a few seconds, before I was fetching a brandy snifter for her and pouring a healthy dose of the caramel liquid into it.
She sipped at her drink, a smirk pulling at her lips. I sat across from her nervously. Little did I know I was waiting to please her in whatever way she wanted. She put the glass down on the coffee table and looked at me, her dark piercing eyes drawing me in.
