Celeste woke without an irritating alarm clock each and every day. She threw the heavy down filled comforter and sheer velveteen sheets back off her frame as she stretched her long arms and legs way out on the surface of her heated waterbed. She groaned and moaned softly as she felt her body loosen in that awakening gesture. Celeste wiped the sleep out of her eyes desperately pulling herself out of bed. She had a couple hours before she had to head off to work. She ran her own business, but chose to work the afternoons and evenings so she could have the night to herself. The night was her solace. And she indulged in herself each and every one of them.
Celeste had lived a year or two alone after Andrea passed away. Andrea had succumbed to leukemia several years ago. At first, she had lived entirely alone and isolated from the scary world. In the ensuing years -- while she could never embrace commitment again -- she sought out a person to share a home with just so someone else would be around. Loneliness can destroy a person from within, if you allow it, and years ago she found Gaye. Gaye was fifteen years older than Celeste, and the mother of her best friend that had moved away to get married a few years earlier, so it was an easy match.
Gaye worked days. Celeste worked nights. But they passed each other once in a while and saw each other on weekends of course. Gaye was Celly's night light. That's what Gaye called Celeste. Celly. It made Celeste smile inwardly each time it fell of the tongue of Gaye.
Celeste marched down the stairs to the kitchen. The coffee maker, like always, was ready to percolate with a simple push of the button. Her breakfast of a bowl of dry cereal, a croissant, and the already filled coffee goddess was ready and waiting for her. On a little scrap of paper on the tiled counter, written in pink ink, was:
Have a great day Celly. Hope you take me up on the movie on the weekend. We really need to let our hair down and let the wind run through it.
Love Landlady Gaye.
While we each owned half the home together for many years, Celeste always read Gaye's notes and smiled at her reference to herself as a landlady. The reason? A dark one.
In the years since Andrea passed away, Celeste had sought out anonymous intimacy and excitement on the internet, bereft of commitment or disheartening failings in love, and had refused to pursue traditional affections. She relegated herself to cyberspace each and every night. Chatting, writing, and surfing the labyrinthine intellectual content of the burgeoning social and popular culture of the world -- harnessed in uncountable microchips. Celeste had inadvertently discovered a darker side of humanity. And she had explored her interest further for several years.
She had discovered the embarrassing and enrapturing world of spanking. Her interests had unraveled each and every day since. Her fantasies had grown from simple curiosity to wanton lust for more than her weary heart could handle. Until this very moment, she had yet to succumb to her yearnings for a more active role in the lifestyle. She had not let her fantasies invade her private life.
She had, for more than a year, resisted that vexing temptation by spanking herself. Each and every morning. Gaye was at work by that time, so after enjoying her prepared breakfast (and a lingering reading on her secluded patio of content she had printed from story sites scattered over the internet), she would return to her room.
Just like always, Celeste returned to her bedroom. She removed her babydoll nightgown, climbed back up on her waterbed, peered into the mirror on the headboard, reached under the pillow for her maple hairbrush, placed it beside her right hip, and reached to her bum to give it a little massage. After a few minutes of letting the blood flow to her pale white cheeks, she would slap herself silly with her ever moving hands (followed soon with her brush).
Her routine was interrupted today, however, for she did not realize her room mate had returned home. Gaye had got to work only to find the hydro was out on her whole block. She was given the day off with compensation and had come home to enjoy her morning with her favorite partner in fun. Coming home quietly, she heard peculiar noises upstairs. Tip toeing up the carpeted staircase, she approached Celeste's room. As she neared the door it became increasingly apparent what was going on. Gaye's mind raced and wondered if she should just excuse herself and leave without causing a scene. She wondered if the embarrassment of getting caught in the act would ruin their friendship. She wondered if she could even remain silent. But her legs wouldn't cooperate with her. Her eyes were affixed to Celeste. And she was grinning widely.
She moved right to the door frame. Clearing her throat.
Celeste froze like a dear in the headlights of a car on a rural stretch of road. Looking up into the mirror, seeing her long time friend, she knew she was caught in the act.
Celeste turned over and reached for the sheets and comforter on her waterbed concealing her lithe, nude body. She pulled the soft linen right up to her neck and looked upon Gaye with a confused and awkward expression on her face. There was a fierce warming in the cheeks of her face as she gazed upon her long time friend and caregiver. She was awash with embarrassment and bereft of any confidence to utter a single word of explanation. Besides, there was simply no suitable explanation or excuse for her behavior. She had been caught in the act -- red handed so to speak. Gaye knew what Celeste had been doing to herself. She knew in her heart that Celeste was likely doing this to herself for a very long time. She knew Celeste required this of herself, but was without a clue on the rationale for such an unconventional release.
Gaye wandered step by step into the room. With an innocent, thoughtful, and understanding look on her face, she approached the bed frame. Taking off her stiletto heels at the foot of the bed, one by one, she looked upon Celeste covering herself up in her waterbed. She saw the embarrassment in her eyes and her cheeks. She paid witness to what she imagined would be going through her willful mind. Gaye didn't speak a word and climbed up onto the bed to Celeste's left. She felt the waves of the bed ebb and flow as she slowly crawled up beside Celeste.
Motioning Celeste to turn over to her side, Gaye climbed up behind her pressing her body against Celeste's over top of the comforter and sheets. Cradling Celeste with her left arm -- placing her arm up and around her and running her fingertips through her hair -- she felt a sudden closeness previously unfounded in their relationship.
Gaye was the first to speak.
Gaye -- "Hush, Celly, and don't say a word. Not that I expect you to get a word out right now. This is nothing to be ashamed of. I'm sorry I came home so soon to find out this little secret of yours."
Celeste -- "But why are you home, Gaye?"
Gaye -- "A transformer got knocked out on the block at work and won't be repaired until later today. I was sent home with pay and I decided to come home and spend the morning with my favorite room mate before she went to work."
