This story is the first in a series - and the series serves as a companion to my story Truth & Admiration. There's no need to read T&A before this series because this is a prologue to T&A - written from Leethie's point of view.
For those of you who have requested that I write a "Stronger Girl" story from Michele's POV, I am meeting you halfway - kinda. Leethie is a very different Dom from The Stronger Girl - and far more flawed. If Michele was my attempt to imagine a less toxic Dom, Leethie is not. She says and does toxic things, uses toxic language. Leethie entered my imagination at the end of her story as toxic, and these stories lead up to that same ending. They don't redeem her, but I do hope they make her more sympathetic.
I considered posting this series as Non Consent/Reluctance but only because I've never read stories in that category. After searching the new and most popular NC/R I don't think Leethie belongs there, and I don't want to post stories there.
All the same, this is a d/s lesbian romance with strong themes of nonconsent and reluctance. My intent is not to offend, but if that's not your cup of tea, I understand and hope that, rather than punishing me with a harsh rating, you will find another story to enjoy.
As always I really do hope you will enjoy reading this story, and that if you do that you will leave a comment.
XOSNS
Off The Beaten Path
Leethie was still nude and on top of the tangle of her silk robe and light cotton sheets when she woke up. The morning had chilled the room. Miranda was asleep, her legs were mostly covered by her sheet, her Chris and Cosey shirt was bunched up near her armpits. Leethie stared at the gathered crotch of her little panties and the rise and fall of her soft pale belly. Her fingers were near her mouth. Her lips parted, full and soft. She was breathing softly, but even with the windows open, it was quiet enough to hear. First light was streaming in the windows and Leethie watched her friend for a long time before getting up and silently dressing.
She set a pot of coffee to brew for Miranda, with a mug and a note. She drew a little heart and below it, she wrote "Punk Rock Beauty Queen". Grabbing her bags and slowly opening the door, as silently as she could, she made her exit.
She only had to wait on their stoop for a few minutes before her family arrived and she piled into the back of the SUV rental with her bickering sisters and settled in for the drive. Her parents had planned a big family vacation at Martha's Vineyard. Thankfully they also planned a stop in New York for a night to see The Lion King, cutting the ten-hour drive into two manageable halves.
She looked up at their apt windows as her father pulled out. For a moment she thought she saw movement, but then they passed under a tree and the window was gone. She wondered if it had been Miranda looking down. She thought she might cry and fought back the tears, wishing they had never met.
The very first time they met had been freshman orientation. Miranda had had a shaved head then. Leethie had made fun of her behind her back, telling another girl she looked like a Sinéad O'Connor-Quipi Doll. But even then she had thought Miranda was beautiful. The severity of her shaved head had been far too shocking and strange for Leethie however - who could not have been more straight-laced and Texan at that moment.
They had crossed paths any number of times over the next two years, but just as acquaintances. It was over the break between sophomore and junior years that the two had finally become fast friends. They had both signed up to attend a summer program in the medieval walled city of Lucca. They'd met again at the airport. Miranda's hair had grown out, she'd worn it in little pigtails for the flight. Leethie had thought it was the cutest thing ever and told her so; they'd decided right then and there to sit together on the flight to Italy, they had talked the whole way.
As it turned out, Miranda's hair was a lovely warm gray - not the coarse silver-gray of an old person, but a true gray. It had reminded Leethie of a mouse she'd found in her grandmother's house when she was very little. The trap had caught the little animal across the side of its head, creasing its skull bloodlessly, but without breaking the skin, cutting it almost in two. The body had been unharmed and beautiful. Leethie had been petting its soft warm-gray hair when her mother found her and scolded her. Leethie hadn't told Miranda about the mouse but had told her how pretty and soft she thought her hair was, how much she liked the color.
"No color at all," Miranda had complained. "Like my eyes!"
And it was true, Miranda's eyes weren't blue or green or brown, or even hazel. They were a strange non-color, but they were very light and big and beautiful, and Leethie had told her so.
The two were an odd couple. Leethie was tall and blonde, from Austin, and a one-time teen beauty queen. Miranda was from Manhattan, petite, always in dark eye makeup, torn jeans, and Doc Martins. But on the flight over they had bonded. Leethie had decided that they were the "Hot Girls," which Miranda had tried to deny but clearly enjoyed hearing.
"Look at you Da," Leethie told her, fingering her little ponytail, her hair was as soft and as fine as the little mouse. "You're a punk rock beauty queen."
They had had so much fun rooming together in Lucca that Leethie had decided to ditch her summer plans with her family and join Miranda afterward on a trip she'd planned for herself through Europe. The two had traveled from city to city on rail passes, sleeping on the train whenever they could, and staying in youth hostels whenever they couldn't. When they got back to the States they had rented a studio together off-campus and were roommates for the last two years of school. By all appearances, they couldn't have been more different, but from that first flight Leethie had been sure they would be friends forever.
And while she was deeply nostalgic for those weeks in Lucca and liked to think of that time as the birth of their friendship, it was in a hostel outside of Lyons that the shape of their friendship had actually been cast.
It had been a spur-of-the-moment choice to catch a ride with two German couples, and they had ended up way off the beaten path, far from any train, drinking, playing pétanque, and flirting with a group of elderly Frenchmen on a tiny village green. The old men spoke some German, and the Germans spoke some French and English. With Miranda's bad French and Leethie's bad Spanish - and their terrible Italian - they had pieced together a long afternoon of boules, pastis, and laughter.
The Germans were the only other tourists in the tiny little town and it turned out the rooms they had reserved for themselves were the only rooms at the hostel. But after some confusion, and a lot of pressing, they were able to learn there was a third room, hardly more than a broom closet with a double-ish bed that wasn't in use. With some cajoling, the German boys got the sour little man at the desk to give them some extra linens and let Leethie and Miranda have it for the night.
If Leethie had been able to be honest with herself, she'd have admitted that she'd felt an attraction for Miranda; that she'd coveted the smaller headstrong girl - her courage and unconventionality. Leethie admired Miranda and knew she was smarter and more adventurous than her. Leethie also found her physically attractive. She wanted to be around her, to touch and hug her; make her laugh. But the attraction also created a powerful ambivalence in Leethie - she both desired and resented Miranda because of it.
And adding to that ambivalence, Leethie wasn't honest with herself, not even remotely. She could never have acknowledged her attraction, much less articulate it, to herself or anyone else. But watching Miranda that evening Leethie had decided that it was Miranda's confidence she wanted so badly, and as she got drunk the feeling turned sour. Some part of herself had decided, even if she couldn't have that confidence for herself, that she wanted to take it away from Miranda.
