The Garden

I am thirty-six years old.

I was dressed in my hunter green two-piece suit, with my skirt just above the knee and my newest, best green shoes with tiny gold buckles at the ankle. I made sure my hair and makeup were perfect in the car before getting out. Inside the 70-story glass building, I signed in at the front desk, and security gave me a new name badge in a plastic glove to pin to my jacket, even though they all knew me there by then. I breathed, pretended to look confident and together, and moved to the elevators. Inside, I was shaking.

I emerged from the golden double doors with my shoulders straight, my chin up, with confident strides. I knew the room where we were meeting. I'd done my homework. I knew what I was there to do, and I knew that my numbers were correct and would benefit everyone involved. But still, my heart was fluttering. If this went well, it would mean a great deal for me and my boss, and my company for that matter. If this took a turn for the unexpected, it could hurt me. I needed this to work. I needed the win.

When I entered the meeting room, I was greeted by two men in gray suits. They smiled to me; I knew them both well, I'd been working closely with them on this deal since the beginning. Bradley and Ramsey. Ramsey was handsome and refined, and spoke with a very East-coastern exactness. Bradley, on the other hand, was not an immediately handsome man. His waistline pudge and plump face might turn many women off, but he was an Idaho farm boy with smiling gray eyes and a preciously cute drawl which always made me fall in love with him a little. Both men wore gleaming gold bands on their left ring fingers, and I often quietly wondered about their wives, how pretty and smart they must be, though I'd never been brave enough to ask about them.

"Hello Becca," Ramsey said as he saw me enter, standing near the door. I took his outstretched hand and squeezed with confident firmness, smiling to him. He always waited for me to relax first before letting go. I liked that.

"Hi guys." I was happy to see them both in the same room again. Bradley took my hand after I released Ramsey's. He grinned as his hand closed around mine. His grip was tighter than Ramsey's, and his was more of an actual shake. I think his cock is bigger.

"Becca, how was the drive?" Bradley asked, his casual tone easing my nerves. He always had a way of diffusing my stress with just a few smooth words, almost as if he could massage the tension right out of my body with nothing but his voice.

"Nice and smooth," I replied, tucking my hair behind my ear. Nervous habit. "Hoping the rain will hold off until I'm out of the city. Rush hour I can handle, rush hour in the rain always makes me crazy."

Ramsey chuckled, gesturing to my seat as he moved around to take his own. "Have you taken my advice yet?" he asked.

"Not yet, no," I admitted bashfully, as I pulled my chair out and sank into the cushioned leather. "I keep forgetting to look when I'm online. I promise I will one of these days." Ramsey has told me many times about books on MP3 that you can download from Barnes & Noble, and how well they pass time when stuck in Atlanta traffic.

I placed my bag on the table in front of me and pulled out my portfolio, selecting a few papers to have ready to retrieve. As soon as she arrived.

My tone was semi-conspiratorial. I've been working with both of them for months now, I felt like I knew them pretty well. But I had yet to meet their boss. "What's her mood like?" I wanted to know.

Bradley's eyes flashed as he smiled, understanding my question. "I think it'll be a good day."

Ramsey though had something on his mind. "She talks like she knows you, or at least, knew you a while ago. Have you worked with her before?"

I was puzzled. "Really?" I thought where I could have met her. I knew she was a few years older than me, even though her position with the company put her in a pay-grade well above my own. The way she was described here at the home office, I always imagined her surrounded by minions who clung to her every word and gesture, maybe with glittering flashbulbs surrounding her whenever she emerged from the back of some stretch Lexus for an evening out. Suffice it to say we moved in very different circles. Today she held my fate, and the fate of this multimillion-dollar contract, in her powerful hands, and although I've heard the guys mention her name many times, this was going to be my first audience with her. If I did not impress, the consequences would be grave for me. I had to be perfect, and my numbers had to be as well.

"She thinks so. She's been acting kind of strange this morning in fact."

"Strange how?" I was now acutely curious.

Bradley looked at him with an amused smile, as though surprised Ramsey had brought it up. Ramsey went on, his voice low. "I don't know, she's been kind of buzzing about it."

I was about to press him with another question when we heard the approach of clicking heels in the hallway. Then the door opened, and our heads turned. Senior Vice President of Operations Melina McKnight stepped into the room. I saw her, and our eyes locked. My God, I did know her, and my recollection was tinged with panic. I couldn't for the life of me remember where I knew her from. And her name, it had never occured to me that her name was one I'd seen before. I was sure I hadn't. I'm no Latitia Baldridge but I'm decent at remembering people's names. But the panic that filled me was not limited to my failed recall. An intense arousal surged in me, as our eyes fixed in each other's. Thank god I had sat down, or I very likely would have swooned. I felt my heart suddenly blaze and my cheeks flushed in confusion, and God help me, I didn't have a clue as to what this woman was doing to me, nor why.

I forced myself to fight through my initial momentary discomposure and I rose to my feet, offering my hand to shake.

* * *

I am eighteen years old.

I'm a freshman in college, my first year away from home, and I am confused.

I am sitting in a counselor's office. Not the kind of counselor my parents would want me to be in, or would ever know about. Last night, I was at a club, and I met a girl there. I don't meet girls at clubs. I wasn't a lesbian. At least, I never thought I was a lesbian before. But this girl, her eyes... the way her eyes glistened in the dark, noisy room, the way they made me feel like I was not only wanted, but craved. No one I'd ever been with before made me feel that way, and this girl did it with only her eyes. I had fallen into her embrace, captivated, grinding against her, wanting all sorts of impossible things, my mind swimming as the heavy bass house music thundered through the floor, shaking our spines. As our lips met, my hands sliding through her luscious mane of auburn red hair, a flurry of thoughts and feelings inundated me: shame, the immediate worry my friends might see me, confusion at the intensity of my body's reaction to this strange girl's touch, and something deeper: raw, visceral desire on a level I'd never felt until then.

I sat in this office with the upside-down triangles on the door, which I was told meant this was a "safe space" to talk about... things. I was sitting in front of a woman, a very beautiful woman with long golden hair and little oval glasses on her nose. Her name was Brenda. She was a counselor who was listening to me talk about my experience with the girl, how she made me feel, and whether my feelings made me gay, or was I just experimenting with things other girls did when they got to college. It's what I hoped. I didn't want to be a lesbian, but I knew I had to go further. I wanted her, it scared the everliving crap out of me, but I couldn't deny that I wanted to see her again.

Brenda smiled a warm, friendly smile to me. "I would estimate that ninety to ninety-five percent of all young women have experimented to some degree with another woman," I remember her telling me. "Kissing, touching, climaxing. You'd probably be shocked to learn how common it is."

I was trembling inside as I listened to her. "It felt so.... I was so ashamed of myself," I confessed. "Like I knew it was wrong, but I wanted it so much at the same time. I felt horrible, but..."

She nodded. "What you're feeling is normal too. It's the same as when you had your first masturbatory orgasm. Do you remember that?"

I shook my head.

"Have you ever given yourself a climax, Becca?" she asked gently. I nodded. "You may not remember it now because you were probably young." Yes, I was. "But young girls discovering their bodies for the first time are often frightened and confused by the feelings they're processing. The fact that you allowed yourself pleasure last night in another girl's arms doesn't mean there's anything whatsoever the matter with you."

I just nodded again. She could read the confusion on my face like it was plain English.

"You want to see her again, don't you?" she asked, supportively. I remember thinking how easy the question was, and although the answer was the simplest one in the world, it was the hardest to actually give. But this was supposed to be a

safe place,

right? I lifted my eyes to her and decided it was better to be honest, and squeaked, "Yes?"

She looked at me hard now, like she was considering something she wasn't sure she should share with me. Leaning over the desk, she opened her hand to me. I hesitantly took it, and she squeezed gently. What she said next I'll never forget.

She said, with a soft voice, "Womanly love is very different from love with a man. It runs deeper than most can understand. But if you choose to understand it, you can love not just women, but men, even more deeply and passionately than you thought possible. Becca, do you want to understand it?"

This question had the same answer as the one before, the same impossible but undeniable answer.

I remember when I left her office that day, I noticed the image of a flower inside one of the upside-down triangles on her door.

* * *

I am eighteen years old. I am laying on my back on a padded slab, with my ankles and wrists bound in soft but firm restraints. I am wearing nothing, but my body is wrapped with white sheer fabric, and I am blindfolded. It is night, and I am in a building somewhere removed from campus, but I don't know where it is. I am to trust her.

It's been two weeks since my visit with Brenda. She has taken me here, and promised me that if I want to understand, I have to first trust. She had me sit in the back seat of her car, and then blindfolded me with a white, lacy, padded eye mask, for sleeping. Two teenage girls got into the back seat with me, one on either side, and they both held my hands. Once when I tried to let one of them go to scratch my nose, they wouldn't let me go, and shushed me gently. We drove for what seemed like half an hour before stopping.

Then she had me get out, and they took me into a building. Still blindfolded, they undressed me, had me step into a bathtub where they bathed me with warm water and scented oils. Their hands were small and soft, and I wondered if they were going to try to pleasure me as they bathed, but they didn't. They didn't even talk. It was like they'd done it before, that they were used to doing it. I was trembling the whole time.

They blowdried my hair, brushed it out thoroughly, and wrapped a delicate fabric around my torso and legs, before leading me out of the bath into a bigger room. There they had me lay down on my back on this padded surface, with a pillow under my head. They stretched my arms out over my head and tied them with silk cords at the wrists, and they spread my legs out wide, causing me to gasp as I felt cold air on my naked sex, and bound my ankles there. Then I felt their mouths on my lips, briefly, as they each kissed me before leaving me alone in the room.

I wasn't alone for long. I could hear footsteps, people walking all around me, and I felt their eyes on my body. My heart was pounding from the strangeness of it all, but soon I felt a presence behind me, a familiar perfume, and a soothing touch. I whimpered as gentle hands removed the eyemask from my face finally, and I opened my eyes, staring up into Brenda's beautiful smile. She was wearing a glistening golden silk robe with floral patterns, her face and hair elegantly made up, like she was ready for a night out in the toniest city restaurant, her golden hair shimmering in the radiance of candles, a corona haloing her angelic face. I smiled nervously back at her, then looked around the room.

It was windowless, about the size of a classroom, resplendent with lit candles of many sizes. There were seven girls here with us, some beautiful, some homely, a few heavy, others slender, here fair-complected, there dark-skinned. All looked to be around my age, none older than 21. They were all wearing robes of varying, but solid colors, none matching. They were all kneeling around us on the carpeted floor in a circle, their knees on pillows, with some items arranged in front of each of them. Each had a lit candle mounted in a candlestick before them, a porcelain-looking oblong egg with an odd black wire snaking out of it, a little bottle, and a little round spongey cylinder. There was also a vase with a flower in front of each girl, and each flower was different, the flower's color matching the color of their robes, I noticed. My eyes moved from each one to the next, until they came to the one with the red rose ...

...

and I saw her.

I gasped in shock and tugged at my restraints in sudden, overwhelming self-consciousness. It was her. She was staring intently at me, her smile widening, her red hair luminescent in the flickering candlelight. She remembered me. I felt my face burn with embarrassment,

oh my God, she's looking at me like this?

Then all at once, I realized, she had done this too. They all did. They had all been bound like this themselves, like me, and knew what was about to come, because the same thing had happened to each of them. But what on Earth was that? I trembled as I turned my eyes up to Brenda's, pleading for answers.

She smiled down at me, her hands laying on my face lovingly. "I know you're nervous. Don't be." She leaned down and kissed my forehead like a loving parent. "Tonight is the first night of your blossoming."

I parted my lips to ask my first question. "Why .."

But she laid her finger over my lips and softly whispered. "Shhhh. It's okay. Everything's okay, I promise you. You've trusted me this far, and I'm grateful. Will you trust me now?" She looked into my eyes. I swallowed, and finally nodded.

She rose to her feet and looked around at all the girls gathered. They all gazed back at her with knowing eyes, some smiling excitedly, some wearing expressions of adoring reverence. She said, "Each of you has advanced another step in your path through the Garden. Now it is time again for a new step, for a new seedling has been found, and come to bloom with us, perhaps to be chosen for our patroness." The girls all smiled at me, with warm, loving eyes. Especially ...her.

"Now, take your eggs, and put them in."

They reached for their little bottles and flipped the caps, applying a dollop of gel on their fingers and then rubbing their fingers between their legs, moistening themselves. My breathing quickened as they then took their eggs, which began humming as they touched a tiny unseen switch. I stared agog as I watched them open their legs and slide them into their vaginas, each moaning softly as they felt it shivering inside their tight canals, with only the black wire dangling from them. I turned my eyes to her, the one with the rose, and she quietly moaned as her eyes stared back into mine, slowly rolling her hips. Then the girls picked up the spongey tube and slid it into themselves, pushing the egg further into them, leaving the black cord loose between their legs on the pillow.

Brenda admired the girls for a moment, then she removed her robe, revealing her nakedness beneath. I inhaled sharply, having no idea it would proceed this far, and I felt the same panic I'd felt at the club—

I shouldn't be doing this! I shouldn't be here, but...

my curiosity blended with my body's arousal kept me riveted to Brenda's beautiful body. And I felt myself moistening as I silently realized what was about to happen to me.

She then spoke a strange word. "Muladhara."

The girl with the magnolia, wearing the white robe, hesitantly rose to her feet. She had a slender build, creamy skin, dark eyes and sandy brown short hair. She looked like a Julie or a Jennifer, not a "Muladhara", but when I saw her slide her robe off her shoulders, I forgot everything else but the vision of her naked body. She was the only one of the girls who seemed wavering and uneasy with whatever she was about to do, but the reluctance in her eyes was tempered with understanding. Brenda reached out her hand for her to come forward, and she came to me, leaning over me to kiss me. My lips parted and I closed my eyes, accepting her, and she sighed softly as our mouths pressed together. I could hear the others' whimpering around us as they watched, their eggs buzzing softly deep inside them. Then I felt her hand on me and I started, my eyes flying open. I jerked at my bindings again, remembering that I was tied down, and that whatever they wanted to do with my body I was mostly unable to resist. The sensation sent ripples of electricity through me, and I couldn't tell if it was panic or pleasure.

Then her lips left mine and she stared into my eyes as her fingers caressed me, nestling between my warm labia and spreading my wetness up and down between them with the tips of her fingers. She smiled softly down at me. I breathed hard, staring up at her, and slowly writhed my hips against her touch.

Brenda softly spoke, the girl rising away from me and moving between my legs. "

O soft and dainty maiden, from afar I watch you, as amidst the flowers you move, and pluck them, singing ..."

Brenda unwrapped me and left the fabric draping over the sides of the pedestal I laid on. I was now fully naked and exposed to the room. I closed my eyes, feeling tears gathering and finally spilling down the sides of my face, my chest heaving with my breaths, my heart pounding in my chest. "

More golden than all gold your tresses are, never was harp-note like your voice, my love, your voice sweet ringing."

Her tongue on my sex sent shockwaves through my body and I gasped loudly, arching my back. All the girls around me gave soft moans of arousal as they watched me. They must have known it was the first time a girl had ever kissed me there. I opened my shame-wet eyes and turned my head to see her, the redhead behind the rose, her hand between her legs rubbing herself, her hips undulating slowly and passionately. I stared helplessly at her as the young girl between my legs licked and suckled and moaned over me, driving me to greater and greater heights of pleasure, but as good as it felt, I could only stare into her eyes, wishing it was her. Moaning in desperation, confusion and surrender, I collapsed into the embrace of my first Sapphic climax, the most loving and all-consuming ecstasy my body had ever known, like a fountain of pleasure between my legs suddenly gushing like never before. All around me I heard a chorus of passionate moans and sighs, like they were all climaxing with me, carrying me with them up, up and up, our hearts surging out of our chests.

I moaned loud in release, my muscles straining, shuddering, then finally relaxing in denouement, my breath pouring out of my lungs in exhaustion. The chorus of voices in the room also seemed to relax again into breathless sighs and soft moans. Had they really all climaxed with me? I fought to open my eyes, looking around, looking up at Brenda. She was now holding something in her hands. Something with tiny dials on it, and a small black metal antenna.