"You don't know what's happening to you, do you?" The woman in the mint green dress didn't look at Caitlin when she talked. She stared out the window instead, leaning on the railing and gazing out over the darkened New York City skyline with a disinterested expression reflecting onto the glass.
Caitlin shook her head ever so slightly, relieved to admit that she didn't really understand what was going on. "No, ma'am," she added, realizing only after the silence stretched a little too long that the other woman couldn't see her, wouldn't notice any visual cues. And she hadn't turned to face Caitlin since... since... the young woman's flushed, ruddy forehead furrowed in confusion, a bewilderment that also showed in her glassy hazel eyes. She couldn't remember the stranger turning to face her at all. If not for that pale, ghostly reflection in the glass, Caitlin wouldn't even know what the statuesque blonde looked like at all.
The faint red lips quirked in an even fainter smile. "No, of course you don't," the other woman murmured, a not-quite-cruel amusement tinging her melodic tones. "That would mean thinking, and you don't really want to do that right now, do you?" Her body swayed ever so slightly in place as she spoke, as if she was slow-dancing to some unheard music. Caitlin didn't need to hear it, though; she could feel it in every heartbeat, in the faintest pulse that fluttered against the black ribbon around her throat. It was a bump-and-grind rhythm that had become as familiar to her as breathing over the course of following the stranger--
Following the stranger. Why. Why had she. Why did Caitlin want to. Why would Caitlin follow someone she didn't. Where had she. Why couldn't she.
Somehow every question seemed to hit that exact same wall of indifference, twisting around in Caitlin's head from an interrogative to a flat, reflexive statement of utter disinterest before she could even summon up the energy to finish posing it. She couldn't really think about any of it--no. Not couldn't. She didn't want to think about any of it. "No, ma'am," she replied, a wave of sleepy relief washing over her as she finally answered the only question that really mattered, the one the blonde had asked her. Caitlin's brow smoothed out into placid indifference, and her eyes locked on the motion of the other woman's silent dance once more.
It had a captivating, metronomic quality to it, keeping perfect time with the silent rhythms of Caitlin's body... or maybe it was the other way around, she mused silently. Maybe Caitlin's heartbeat, her breathing had settled just as easily into the pulse of the stranger's motions as her footsteps back on the pavement outside the club. Maybe she was taking her cues from the blonde, following the other woman now with only her eyes. It felt good to follow. It felt good to... not think, of course. Caitlin didn't want to do that. To understand, though. To accept.
The memory of the club slipped past her, drifting by almost unnoticed as Caitlin stared vacantly at the sway of the blonde woman's hips. She couldn't focus on it, she couldn't concentrate on it. But she could see it for that tiny moment when it came to mind unbidden. She was leaving Madame X's, still high on the energy of the crowd and barely even feeling the lateness of the hour or the cocktails she'd downed, and a woman walked past. Taller than Caitlin, over a head taller, with a body that had the most amazing curves. Caitlin didn't have much interest in women, not when there were so many lovely gothy boys in the bars on a Saturday night with painted nails and black lipstick and tongues with the most interesting piercings, but something about the stranger's ass snagged Caitlin's gaze and reeled her in. Before she knew it, she was tottering along on platform heels, desperate not to let the beautiful woman out of her sight. She needed to, she wanted to....
"You want something else, don't you?" the blonde asked, the question neatly insinuating its way into Caitlin's mind and subsuming the memory into an attentive, fascinated interest in the stranger's words. Caitlin couldn't recall ever being so utterly captivated by anyone before, hanging on their every soft murmur with rapt amazement, but it felt so right to listen to this woman. Something about her charisma, her magnetic presence simply dulled out her surroundings and made her the only thing worth noticing. Caitlin didn't wonder what building she was in, how many blocks she'd walked behind someone whose face she never even got a glance at. She only thought about answering.
"Yes, ma'am," she whispered meekly, her words carrying easily in the silence of the penthouse apartment. She didn't know what it was, yet; the desire was still in the process of creation, a hunger shaping itself in the smooth motion of the stranger's swaying hips. But it was real, and it was getting stronger with every passing moment; the same rhythm that fluttered in Caitlin's pulse and pounded in a heart still calming down from the effort of keeping up with the other woman's lengthy strides now throbbed between her slowly spreading legs. Caitlin was getting turned on, she realized. She was watching someone do a bump-and-grind dance in a skirt that clung to every curve with indecent enjoyment and it was making her cunt wet.
The crooked smile in the glass broadened into a smirk. "You're a very rare girl, you know that?" the blonde asked, her voice soft and cooing in Caitlin's ears. "Very responsive. I can't give you all the credit, it took me a long time to learn how to use my body like this, but it's still maybe one in a hundred who falls under my spell like you do. Does it make you happy to know you're such a treasure, sweetie?" Caitlin should have bristled--at being called a girl when she was old enough to drink, at being dubbed 'sweetie' as though her silver skull earrings and ripped fishnet stockings and midnight blue eye shadow had been replaced by some Polly Pocket bullshit, at the maddening refusal to tell Caitlin what desire was making her pussy slowly leak slick musk through the fabric of her satin panties and down onto the back of her vinyl dress--but instead she felt a warm glow of happiness that made her toes curl inside her platform heels. She nodded unthinkingly before realizing that it did no good. The stranger couldn't see her.
So Caitlin added, "Yes, ma'am," squirming in her seat in time with the swaying motions of the other woman's ass until her skirt slowly rode up her thighs to expose her lacy black panties. And the wet spot. God, it felt like it covered her whole crotch now. She probably looked like some kind of fetish website's perverted dream.
