As I licked Brenda to her first climax, I remembered the first time I'd been with another woman and enjoyed it. (There had been one time before, when Chad forced me to try with a stripper in front of him and his friends for his birthday. It went badly.) The day I met Troy and he brought me home to meet Julie, she'd also been out and brought home Claire, whom I consider the real first other woman I'd ever been with and is now my boss. She owns a small chain of yoga studios and I'm her executive secretary, which means we occasionally slip away to do what Brenda and I were doing just then, but without the mind control fetish part. Claire knows what they can do and what I'm learning, but she's more comfortable with the polyamorous sex than being controlled, and Sharon (Whom you haven't met, but trust me, she's nice; goes to school with Troy.) isn't someone I know all that well. I couldn't ask her either.
"Well, you know what you've got to do, then," Sue said in my head as Brenda began mindlessly bucking under me. I shifted position so that my own pussy was hovering over Brenda's face. Her tongue began to slide up and down my slit with slow, mechanical strokes. "You've got to... ummm, she's good... you've got to do what they did: find someone hot and bring her home too." My response was an affirmative-sounding moan into Brenda's slick crotch. Of the occupants of my skull, Sue is the most practical one.
I agreed with her. Tomorrow at work, I'd find a woman to bring home. I could go looking for a man, however, I subscribe to Julie's philosophy nowadays that other women are a whole lot of fun, but Troy's got all the dick I need. That's why so many of our friends that tend to hang out around the house are woman: Troy doesn't play switch like the rest of us. He said he tried it a couple of times long ago, figured out that he wasn't into it, and hasn't looked back.
Troy, Julie, and yes, even Helen, all have the sort of unshakable confidence that comes from being able to make everyone around them do what they say, and I could feel that confidence filling me as I felt another orgasm begin. They'd both be working tomorrow, (They were having one of their "Just Us" nights that evening, and I give them their space unless they invite me.) but they'd just be a phone call away if anything went wrong. It was time for me to try flying solo on this one. I couldn't wait to go to work tomorrow.
Then, as I began thrashing on Brenda's face, I realized that yeah, I could.
* * *
Have I ever mentioned that we live in Federal Way, Washington? I haven't? Sorry, that was rude of me. We live in Federal Way. Inner Claire-ity Yoga's original studio, and still the one that Claire and I consider "the office," is in Tacoma, where I used to live with Chad; very technical definition of "live" that it was.
As I sat at my desk the next morning taking care of some paperwork, I looked up and out the glass wall at the morning class. Morning classes in the middle of the week tended to consist of the serious enthusiasts, as opposed to the people who wandered in with a coupon and never came back after the first session. Twelve of the kind of toned and dedicated bodies that could hold a Camel Pose for more than ten minutes were on the other side of the glass. One of the benefits of working here was being able to sit in on the occasional session, but I was nowhere near their level.
Despite the loveliness before me on display in the studio, I'd decided on the drive in that it would be a bad idea to look for a subject where I work. Apart from potentially upsetting Claire, I was still uncertain how successful I would be and afraid I'd scare off a customer. If I were at Troy or Julie's level, I could have stepped out there and turned the class into an orgy, but that wasn't the kind of business Claire wanted to run, and I couldn't think of a decent way to broach the subject of "Hey, boss, mind if I practice the things I've been learning by seducing a repeat customer" to her anyway.
Claire came out of her office with a stack of papers under her arm and set them on my desk, setting her hands on both corners and leaning over. I snuck a look down her shirt before craning my head upward to meet her eyes. She had a look of exasperation on her face that softened a bit when she noticed I'd been checking her out.
"Rough morning, Boss Lady?" I asked her. I pretended to straighten the little pewter model of the original USS Enterprise that Julie had given me a couple weeks ago and now sat on my desk as an excuse to brush my fingers over the back of her hand on the way. The wall that looked into the studio was one-way glass, which had been convenient when one or both of us had needed some "stress relief" at work before.
"Not yet, Susan," was her response as she reached out and rested her hand on mine. She was the boss, and we do take the occasional "long lunch" together, so she didn't have to be subtle if she didn't want to. "But it will be. It's Tread the Boards Day today." We groaned at the same time at the thought.
"Tread the Boards Day" was Claire's term for one of the more annoying aspects of the business. About 65% of a yoga studio's advertising is word-of-mouth. Another reason I didn't want to choose one of the customers. If it didn't work, "the owner's secretary tried to come on to me" may or may not make for a good Yelp review, depending on the reader. The occasional coupon in The Stranger only accounted for another 10%; the other 25% of our advertising came from flyers on bulletin boards at supermarkets, coffee shops, organic markets; and gyms and spas that didn't offer their own yoga classes. That meant that either I or Claire had to spend at least one day a month driving up and down I-5 and Highway 405 and making all these little stops to ask if we could put up a flyer, then tacking them to the bulletin boards. Then an idea hit me.
"Well, you know, Claire," I said, turning my hand over so it was holding hers and making little circles on the back of her hand with my thumb. "If you covered Tacoma and Lacey and I went north and handled Puyallup and Kent, you could be done in a couple of hours and all that driving could be my problem."
"Mmm-hmm," Claire responded with a knowing smile. "And be ten minutes from home, so no sense coming all the way back here just for the last couple hours of the day, and you might as well knock off early, I suppose." I smiled back.
"It'd also free up a bit of time on our schedules." I stood up from my chair and put my arm around her waist. "We'd have time for a nice, enjoyable lunch before we headed out."
Claire put her arms around me and slid them down to cup my ass. "We could save even more time if we just had a little nibble in my office, Susan. Why don't we continue this discussion in there?"
"You sure are smart, Lady," I said with a little smooch. "Guess that's why you're the boss."
