This is a prequel to Desire Paths, telling the story of Natalie, the woman who preceded Emily as a slave.
All characters in the story are 18 or over.
1.
It was starting to dawn on Natalie that she might be in over her head. The 44-year-old mother of two was, by then, completely nude except for the cuffs on her wrists and ankles, fastened to the leather bench. Something about feeling the drafty air of the basement against her bare pussy and her round, prominently displayed ass, had made things suddenly very real. The previous weeks had been a blur of escalating dares and incessant lust, coming over her like a hallucinatory wave, and there, in the basement, the enormity of her situation was now apparent. She struggled against the binds. Natalie didn't have her car. She didn't know where she was. She didn't even know this woman. Not really. Not when it came down to it.
"Tiff! Hey, Tiff!" she called.
She heard footsteps creaking in the floorboards above her--someone striding gracefully across the kitchen. She could hear the sound of the basement door opening. Natalie waited to hear a reply, but none came. Even still, she could feel a presence--a magnetic force bearing down on her through the basement. Tiff. Natalie wondered how she had let it get to this point. How she had let herself be so desperately, vulnerably at the mercy of this woman?
In 44 years, she had never so much as fantasized about being with another woman, let alone actually done anything. She struggled against the binds again, but it was no use. It occurred to her that in 19 years no one besides her husband had beheld her naked body, and even those sightings were about as common as lunar eclipses. It had been almost cliché the way they'd grown apart: husband traveling constantly for work, the household evolving to the point that it functioned entirely without him. And by then the children were in high school, their waking hours increasingly regimented and accounted for. She felt the household evolving once again, this time to function without her, and Natalie wondered privately what the next phase of her life might look like. Would she take an art class, or take up Pickle Ball, or book a short vacation to Montreal? She knew she was free to do whatever she wanted. She just needed to figure out what was. She had been waiting for a new path to reveal itself to her, wondering if she would recognize it as such when it appeared. Now, in the dim fluorescent light of the basement, she was asking herself if she'd let it go too far. Picked the wrong trailhead and forged the wrong path. Maybe. That was the safe bet. But if that was true, why was she so fucking turned on?
2.
Back in November, her daughter was receiving an honor at school for the end of the term. The morning of the ceremony, Natalie flipped through her walk-in closet, looking for something to wear. She hadn't bought clothing in a decade--one after another, she removed the dresses from their hangers and tried them on. Each time she pulled the garment past her ass and thighs, she inevitably felt the fabric tugging. In the full-length mirror, she observed her reflection, debating whether each dress clung too provocatively to her generous hindquarters. After cycling through the closet, time was running out. She admitted defeat and selected the dress that was the least revealing (though not by much) and headed out the door.
She could hardly concentrate on the ceremony. Speakers were walking to the microphone, offering brief speeches. Eventually each would utter a name and a student would walk across the stage and accept a certificate. Natalie tried to snap out of her funk. She wanted be mentally present for her daughter, but the process of trying on clothing had left her utterly destroyed--self-conscious, swearing resolutions to change her life, wondering how she'd let it get this bad.
One final round of applause snapped her back to attention. People were rising to their feet and exiting the auditorium.
"Parents of award recipients: please stick around. We'd like to get a group photo for the socials," the principal announced.
Natalie obliged, climbing the short set of stairs to join her daughter on stage. They took a few group photos with the honorees and their parents, then the photographer ushered Natalie and her daughter to take a photo together with the certificate. Natalie groaned internally, thinking of all the people who might see the photos of her in the tight dress once they were posted.
"Mom, do you know her?" her daughter asked. "She's looking at you like she knows you."
In the back row of the auditorium stood a thin woman in a gray suit. Her bronze complexion and layered blonde hair gave her a sporty look, like she might surf or play volleyball. Something in the sun. And she was definitely staring at Natalie.
"No, I don't think I do. Does she work here?"
"I think she's a realtor or something. She sponsored one of the awards. Also... can I have ten dollars? There's a bake sale after lunch."
Natalie, caught in the magnetic gaze of this mysterious woman, produced a ten-dollar bill to her daughter. Her daughter plucked it and escaped back into the school halls, shouting a cursory "thanks, mom!" Natalie hardly noticed. She had begun to descend the stage stairs towards this woman--it was like she was caught in a tractor beam. When the had bridged the considerable gap between them in the auditorium, Natalie spoke first.
"Excuse me. I couldn't help but notice that it seemed like you were looking at me. Do we know each other?"
"No, I don't think so. I think I would remember. And I'm sorry for staring...it's just that...and this is awkward to say to a stranger...you're gorgeous."
Natalie blushed.
"That dress looks exquisite on you. I can tell from the way you carry yourself that you're a little lacking in confidence. I know the opinion of a stranger may not mean anything to you, but you're a smoke show, mama. You've got to own it. Especially when you've got that great big booty of yours."
The remark was so crass that it knocked the wind from Natalie's lungs. She'd come of age in an era that had vilified that particular feature of her body, and though it was a compliment, she flinched at the comment.
"Sorry if that's coarse, sweetie. But, I see an ass like yours and I ask myself 'What were all of my squats even for?' At a certain point you remember sometimes the secret to a great butt is just fate and genetics, you know? I'm Tiff."
She extended her hand. Natalie swallowed.
"Um, Natalie."
"Good to meet you, 'Um Natalie.' If I look familiar to you, it's probably because you've seen my face on a bus stop. Or my billboard off the parkway."
Natalie was still too stunned by Tiff's previous remark to fully process the next bit for a second.
"Sorry, I was just caught off guard there. I'm not used to being...for people talking to me like that," Natalie said, sounding less reprimanding than she'd intended.
"That's a problem of mine. I can't keep my thoughts to myself. I pride myself on being a straight shooter. Sorry if it's too forward. You're just so... va va voom. I'm jealous."
"I guess it's nice to hear in a funny way. Thank you. But I don't know. Trying on dresses this morning was a wake up call. I think I need to go on a diet."
"Stop, you're gorgeous. You don't need to do a thing," Tiff said. "So, proud mama, what's on your agenda for the rest of the day?"
"I thought I'd go out to lunch with my daughter, but it seems like she'd rather eat here with her friends."
"That's a shame. You're going to need one last good meal before all the kale. If you do go on that diet."
Natalie, who'd been looking mostly at her feet, looked up at Tiff. She was probably a few years older than Natalie. Her body was taut from a devoted gym regimen. Tiff was beaming at her, looking very much like one of her bus stop ads. Natalie was suddenly aware that they were still standing in the empty auditorium that had been full of students, teachers and parents less than five minutes before. In that short time, the slim, chatty woman before her had seemed to fill the room. She'd made crude, boundary-pushing and overly familiar comments about her body. But she'd also been quite complimentary. Maybe overly so, to the point that a part of Natalie wondered if Tiff was actually coming on to her. Natalie squashed the thought in her head. Preposterous. It's not like this attractive, assertive, sporty woman was going around picking-up chubby moms at some high school. It just didn't make sense. She didn't even know if Tiff was gay. Despite this, from the small part of Natalie that was asking if this was a pick-up, an even smaller part, a sub-committee if you want, had formed. A tiny voice in her head was now asking "if that is what this is, how do I feel about it?"
"Come to lunch with me," Tiff said.
"Why...why do you want to have lunch with me?"
"I see a person who seems interesting and I want to know more. I love people--that's half of my job, getting to know people. Making a connection is the most important part of living. What do you say?"
Natalie had to admit to herself that she was so drawn to this woman's charisma, brash as she was. She was in her thrall, more accurately. Natalie decided to go to lunch, if only to be in the presence of Tiff's energy a little bit longer. Maybe it was a chaotic. Maybe it was a little uncomfortable. But it definitely wasn't boring.
3.
"So. Tell me everything about Natalie," Tiff said, laying her menu down on the white table cloth.
"Not much to tell, I suppose. My family and I live in the Fox Valley neighborhood. Two kids...well, you saw my daughter. And I have a son, her fraternal twin. They're both eighteen, applying to college. Do you have kids?"
"No, no. I'm a proud aunt but my lifestyle is pretty incompatible with all that. I'm free as a bird. If I want to go to the St. Kitts for a week, I get up and go. It suits me and I never get bored."
Natalie nibbled a corner of her bread.
