1
I started coming to the restaurant because of the lighting, more than the food. I was living alone, after the divorce, and it was less trouble to go out to a neighborhood place most evenings than to shop and cook and clean up for one. Over a month or two I tried everything close to the apartment, some known for their food and others for their bar scene or their unique features, but after a while I realized that what made them comfortable for me was toned down lighting, not too dark for reading or web browsing on my tablet computer but also not to bright or glaring or noisy.
So, I found myself in Acacia a few nights a week, usually at the same high table in a back corner, and I got to know some of the servers and managers as they figured out that I was becoming a regular. I was the older, professional woman who often ordered the special but was quietly dressed and kept to herself, and while we often chatted a little we never became close, and they left me to my computer most of the time.
My eyes often went to one of the waitresses, Diane,a small slender dark haired girl, who told me her name was Diane. Even though she dressed like the others, in dark jeans and the black shirt with the restaurant logo, I noticed her slim thighs, with the space between them, and her compact ass and firm breasts. She smiled and chatted routinely, and I smiled back, and life went on.
Until the Thursday night when I came in and Diane came over to me with the menu and the list of specials, and she was smiling. As I began to look over the list, and waited for her to move on, she spoke up again. "You know, Jennifer, when you were in a few days ago, you left this behind." She held up a yellow flash drive, the kind with a green band, and I knew right away it was one of mine- but which one?
She saw the confusion and then the doubt and the question in my eyes. "Yes, that one, the last one you would want anyone to see, the one with your secret life on it. Shush, quiet now, keep looking at the menu, you want to hear the rest of this." I started to speak up, and she surprised me by putting a finger on my lips.
"No, not a word- 'Blue'. I found this, and when I took it home, I was just hoping for a name to see who it might belong to, maybe one of the regulars. But I was not expecting to find all those stories, and the blog you are keeping, and that collection of photos. The ones you saved from the Internet for the blog are very unusual, but the file of selfies, well that was just amazing. Who would imagine that under your insurance brokerage, professional exterior was someone like that?"
"Look, Diane, I am really glad that it was you who found the flash drive, I thought I had maybe left it in a taxi or at the airport last time. You have no idea how relieved I am, you can see why, so thank you for bringing it to me!" I was smiling, reaching to take it, and trying to skate over this patch of thin ice by ignoring it.
She was still smiling, holding it closer as she moved next to the table so her back was to the rest of the room, but her voice was bitter. "No, you look, Jennifer, bitch, let me be clear enough that even a stupid girl like you can get the picture. I am keeping a few copies of this drive, so I own your ass now. All of those 'ideas you were exploring' in your writing and your photos have just come true, and I will take you there just because it seems amusing to me to make you into something new. You are one of the women who think that with their college degree and expensive casual clothes and Gold Card or Platinum Card and your careful 22% tips that you are better and that you can chat over white wine about 'erotic' and 'sensual' ideas without getting down to it."
Her body shielded me from view, as she put out a hand to cup my breast and squeeze it hard. "Now, you will be at my apartment Saturday 8am, dressed in your finest, and you can learn to be the server. You will sit here, and stay for dinner and coffee as you usually do. I know you like healthy things like Caesar salad and our chicken pasta dish, with a nice white wine, but from now on I will choose for you. Tonight you are having one of those sweet girly pink drinks, and a nice hearty pork chop with extra gravy. Once I start you on your new exercise plan you can work off the calories. Your life is mine now, or everything on the flash drive goes out to your contact list and the Internet."
"Diane, please, how can you do this? Why do you want to ruin me?"
"Because I get the same thrill from power and control that you seem to from humiliation and because I can. And by the way, from now on you are tipping every server 30% because now you know better what it is like to serve and smile."
2
It was raining on Saturday as I drove over to Diane's place, which suited my mood. I was resigned to doing this, in order to get my life back, thinking her interest would disappear and this would become a joke later which I would keep hearing about. When I found the address, I realized it was a small older house, not the apartment complex I had been expecting.
I was unusually dressed up for a weekend morning, with my best pleated dark wool skirt and the bronze color silk blouse that I thought accented my brunette hair, worn with stockings and black patent heels and my best lingerie. I had a light raincoat, and didn't need my umbrella when I parked in her gravel driveway and went to the door.
I looked for a bell, and then knocked. I waited, with no response, feeling more hopeful, but then knocked again. Diane opened the door with a smile, dressed in jeans and a T shirt and bare feet, and my eyes slid from here face down to her visible breasts in the thin shirt. She saw my glance, and she smiled.
"Come in, Jennifer, so I can begin to figure you out. Take off the coat, and stand here, with your hands on the walls." We were in a narrow entry hall, leading back into the house, and everything was worn looking. I slipped off my coat and hung it on the wall hook next to the door as I put both arms out. I was facing into the house, with my arms out in a T, touching the cool plaster on both sides. I was a little bit taller and twice her age.
She looked me over, saying nothing, and touched my shoulder length hair to play with it. I stayed still, with nothing to say really, as her hand slid down to my cheek, and my neck. She was touching my skin, and then sliding her hand onto my blouse, cupping the curve of my breast and then hefting it, feeling its weight and letting it bounce. My nipples tightened, and she laughed.
She was using both hands now, exploring over my clothing to feel my hips and my ass, and the smooth stockings. She ducked under my arm, to go behind me, and I stood still as she lifted my skirt up to my waist and tucked it in, exposing my panties and the backs of my thighs in a ridiculous way. From behind me, she reached around and gripped the front of my blouse to rip it open, and I blinked as the silk ripped and the buttons went flying.
She left it hanging open as she stretched my bra to pull it down over my breast and cup them with her cool hands. She pinched and rolled both nipples, but then stopped to pull my panties down quickly to my knees as she reached between my thighs and slapped my ass hard. She was cupping my sex, and laughing harder now.
"You are in my home less than a minute, Jennifer, and you are already very wet. Show me what is in your mind, what you need now."
She was standing behind me, with one hand between my legs and the other working my breast and I was rocking on her hand and responding, aching suddenly and trying to get past my humiliation and so close- when she stepped away and laughed, leaving me breathing hard.
"It's not going to be that easy for you anymore, Jennifer. Stay as you are, don't move." She ducked under my outstretched arm again and walked down the hall, and out of sight. I stayed as I was, with my clothing disarranged. When she came back, she was smiling and handed me a paper. It was a color photo from the printer, of me here in the hall a few minutes ago; an older woman with her blouse ripped open, bra down, panties around her knees, and obviously wet and used and on edge. You couldn't see Diane, just hands using me from behind.
"The webcam seems to work great, so now I truly own your ass, Jennifer, and everything else. The video plus your photos and stories would make a good set. Let me explain your new rules, listen carefully. You will come here every Saturday, at 8 in the morning and again at 8 at night, let yourself in if the door is unlocked. Take off everything here by the door, except your tallest pair of red heels, and assume this position with no discussion. I may give you things to do, or I may send you away, but twice every Saturday you will be here, in my hallway, naked and awaiting orders. I am generous, however, and to protect your identity you will have this."
She handed me a mask, the kind of transparent pink plastic that only partly obscures your real face. The mouth and chin of the mask had been cut away, but it would cover my face and forehead, making me look like a plastic girls' fashion doll, with a naked older woman's body.
