Author's note: This is a standalone story, but it continues the adventures of Mira, a character introduced in my story The Sommelier. I recommend reading that first for context. However, this story and future stories in this collection are meant to be standalones, unless indicated otherwise.
I appreciate all comments, as they are what motivate me to continue writing.
Mira exhaled as she swept down the counter of the bar. At the tender age of twenty-eight, she was already one of the rising sommeliers in the Society, the most exclusive organization for sapphic women who enjoyed exploring the furthest bounds of female sexuality. She'd passed her licensing exam as a cunt sommelier, performed in competitions, trained her own lover as a tasting sample and debuted her, and now she was trying to take her career to the next step. Fortunately for her, a Society domme who owned a ritzy wine bar in San Francisco had hired her as a sommelier. The bar was called Blossom, and it was dimly lit and sleek, with chrome tabletops and candles that cast a dark, secretive atmosphere.
The real secret, however, was what went on in the private rooms in the wine bar's basement. That was where Society women gathered to engage in all sorts of debaucherous acts of sapphic eros, and where Mira practiced her true passion. As good of a wine sommelier as she was, she was an even better cunt sommelier. It was a rare skill, and working at Blossom gave her the opportunity to further hone her craft. Especially since Rita, the owner, was also a successful corporate lawyer, and was able to acquire some of the finest tasting samples in the world for Blossom's most exclusive clientele.
But that was only part of the job. Much of the job, unfortunately, was indeed the mundane tasks of working at a wine bar. Which was why Mira was now placing wine glasses into the dishwasher, her pert, sizeable, jeans-clad ass bent over the massive tray of the industrial unit. Her grumbling suddenly turned to a yelp as she felt someone's hands cup the globes of her ass.
"Hey!" she said, whirling around, her narrowed eyes widening in surprise when she saw who it was. "Claire, babe, what are you doing here?"
Her girlfriend, dressed in a long white coat and sweater that did little to conceal the swell of her breasts, leaned in to peck Mira on the lips. "You left your keys at the apartment," she said, raising them up and jangling them in Mira's face. "And when I walked in here and saw that sexy backside of yours, well, I just couldn't resist." Claire giggled as she slid the keys into Mira's hand. "I have to run, babe, but your boss is outside on the patio. I think she wanted to talk to you."
"Thanks Claire," Mira said, giving her a playful swat on her own ass as the blonde walked away. Claire was just about the best lover a woman could have, especially given Mira's career as a cunt sommelier. Claire was understanding, accepting, and even a participant in the world of cunt tasting. She had debuted as a tasting sample not too long ago, and received high marks. Mira watched her girlfriend sashay out, wishing she could have stuck around, then sighed and finished loading the dishwasher. Once she was done, she washed her hand and walked out to the patio.
Her boss, Rita, was a skinny Asian woman in her sixties, dressed in a crisp pantsuit. Her grey hair was short and bobbed, and her dark brown eyes held a hint of wry wisdom. In her fingers smoldered a cigarette. "Really ought to quit, huh?" she said, glancing at Mira with a grin. "I'm sixty-two and I ain't getting any younger." The air outside was crisp and chilly, the fog drifting in through the mix of new high rise apartment complexes and older buildings in this part of San Francisco.
"Not really my place to say." Mira wiped down her hands on her jeans. "Claire said you were asking for me."
"She's a beauty," Rita said, dashing out her cigarette in an ashtray and shifting her shoulders. "I should definitely avoid smoking out here. Since we don't allow smoking in the public areas."
Mira smiled wryly. "Well, it's the law. What did you want with me, anyway?"
She nodded and took a swig of water from the giant hydroflask she always carried with her. "I have a client for you. An upstairs tasting room kind of client."
Mira raised her eyebrows. "Oh? I didn't see anything in the scheduling service."
"That's cause she's not a Society member, and she also needs this to be discreet." Rita rubbed her jaw. "None of the samples can know who she is. Only you."
"Only me?" Mira wrinkled her nose. She didn't like setting up tastings and keeping the samples in the dark. It was harder for them to truly blossom and showcase their flavors if they weren't fully informed or too nervous. "I think I need to understand the need for all this secrecy. You know how I am about my tastings."
Rita nodded. "Yeah, I know. Look, she's a client of mine at my firm. Things are a little complicated with her, but she's trustworthy, and, ah, just between you and me," she said, a little smirk flickering across her lips, "she knows what she's doing. I just need you to guide her through the actual tasting."
Mira snorted. Rita probably shouldn't have been so blase about bedding one of her work clients, but after working here for four months, Mira knew that this woman was definitely not the first. "Look, it's not that I don't trust you or her, but I can't set up a tasting unless I speak to her and get a sense of what she might enjoy."
"That's perfect, because she'll be here tonight. I told her you'd pick out a nice flight of wine for her." Rita laughed. "Seven fifteen, at the bar. She'll ask for you." The lawyer glanced at her watch. "I have to get to the office. Try not to burn the bar down while I'm gone, okay?"
Mira watched the older woman walk off, with an almost boyish swagger. She couldn't help but laugh a bit. Rita was the perfect example of age truly only being a number. And while Mira had some reservations, she had to admit, she was a little excited to meet this mysterious woman. Something this intriguing had not happened to her in quite a while.
#
The bar was quite crowded for a Thursday evening. It appeared a company was having its happy hour at the wine bar, but Mira herself wasn't attending the table. She stayed behind the bar, recommending drinks to those sitting there and providing wine lists and pairings to the waiters working the restaurant section. As she worked, she continued to check her watch, wondering if her mystery woman would be prompt.
At 7:15, on the dot, a woman sat down at the bar. She appeared to be in her early forties, with sharp cheekbones, lines around her eyes and mouth, and frizzy black hair pulled into a well-coiffed bun. Her eyes were brown and warm, and her skin a bronzed olive shade. Her sharp, aquiline nose gave her a distinctly Mediterranean look. As she unbuttoned her coat, a sleek blue dress that hugged her slim figure was revealed.
"I am here to see Mira, the sommelier," she said, in a curiously lilting accent Mira could not place. Part of her was disappointed, as she had almost been expecting a celebrity. Rita represented some very wealthy people. But this woman, despite her lack of celebre, was quite stunning, and projected a mystique of her own.
"That's me," Mira replied. She grabbed a bottle of their most popular Pinot Grigio. "Rita told me you liked Pinot Grigio. This one is excellent. Aromatic nose with hints of pear and apple, lingers on the palate, with rich, well-developed tannins. I won't spoil all the notes for you. But this one's on the house."
"Ah, yes, that sounds good." Her brown eyes ran over Mira appraisingly, and the young woman blushed a bit as she poured the stranger a glass. The woman took a sip, and pressed her lips together as though savoring its impression upon them. "That is lovely. Thank you so much. You look, are you Turkish by any chance?"
Mira laughed. She'd been confused for many ethnicities over the years, but Turkish was a new one to add to the list. "I'm actually half Indian and half white. But I was born and raised here, so people wonder about me all the time. Are you Turkish?"
The woman nodded. "You could pass there, if you could speak." A shy smile flashed across her lips. "Has Rita told you about me?"
"Not really." Mira leaned in closer so no one could hear, though the bar was pulsing with both music and human voices. "I gather you may have slept together?"
The woman did not look surprised. A slight darkness flashed across her eyes but she shrugged, and it went away as soon as it had come. "That is... slept together is a stretch. But I have... well, I should start from the beginning. But first, you may call me Azra."
Mira assumed immediately it wasn't her real name. "Why don't we go somewhere more private? So I can hear you." It was only growing louder. She turned to one of the other bartenders. "Taking my ten minute break right now." The other bartender nodded at her, then smirked when she noticed Mira was talking to an attractive older woman.
Gesturing for Azra to follow, Mira took her past the bar and out to the patio. It was a chilly day and as such there were not many people standing around. Azra shivered and buttoned up her coat again as she set her glass down on a table. They took two chairs and Mira leaned forward, hands pressed together as she studied Azra.
"So, tell me about yourself. And your history with... well, women, I suppose." Mira zipped up her jacket, wishing the heat lamps were fixed already.
Azra took a sip of wine and exhaled. "It's not something you deal with so much here in America, but I am from Turkey. My father is a powerful businessman there, but he is also a very conservative Muslim. He sent me to study abroad here, many years ago. When I was in university in America, I discovered I was a...
