Are You Tiffani Caine?

Author's Introduction:

This work in its entirety is dedicated to KF, whose life was brutally unfair and far too short. I will always remember you, always love you, and always miss you. Rest now, my brother. You've earned your peace.

This is the third chapter in an ongoing series. I expect each chapter to vary in themes, fetishes, and even category, and for that reason I intend to state at the beginning of each chapter what readers can expect to see. So, here goes:

Are You Tiffani Caine? Chapter 3

deals with non-consensual elements (blackmail, non-violent coercion), female-male sex, drug and alcohol use, forced prostitution, (Christian) faith being tested, mental health issues including PTSD, explicit description of meals, and relationships being tested.

I welcome feedback, positive or negative. If you want a response, either leave a comment at the end of this story or email me at the address on my profile page.

All fictional characters that I made up in my head as fiction who engage in fictional sex are over 18 fictional years of fictional age fiction fiction fiction.

Up next: That Damned Blessing, Chapter 3.

Are You Tiffani Caine? Chapter 3

By Senor Smut

Do you remember the first time? I can't remember a worse time.

- Pulp

Thursday, April 15 - Friday, April 16

Sara's lunch with the Musketrixes had been exactly what she'd needed, and she was delighted to that they could all come to her place on Saturday. Such meetings were easy to arrange when they were all twenty years old and unattached, but these days clearing everyone's schedule on short notice was a Herculean task. She was lucky that they'd sensed her desperation, and even luckier that they were such good friends that they'd willingly inconvenience themselves that way. Of course she'd have to get some food from the amazing Middle Eastern place in her neighborhood to thank them - all four of them loved their stuff.

She had barely sat down at her desk when her cell rang, and a glance at the caller ID confirmed her worst suspicions. What a perfect way to murder her good mood. She didn't want to deal with this now, but when would she ever? She steeled herself and answered.

The expected disguised voice asked, "Are you Tiffani Caine?"

She responded with a sigh that sounded more beaten than she realized and a stoic, "Yes I am."

"Hello, Tiffani. How was lunch?"

"Well you aren't helping my digestion, if that's what you're asking."

"So tell me how work is going."

She made a face she wished the Caller could have seen and said, "Hold on a bit." Standing, she asked Gemma, the woman who worked across the aisle from her, to let anyone who asked know that she had just received an urgent call and would be back at her desk soon. With that she grabbed her jacket and purse and headed for the elevators.

"I take it we're going for a walk?"

"I really can't discuss work, with you, at work."

"No, and probably not any of the other things we'll be talking about either."

That set off warning klaxons in her intestines, but she knew had learned there was no point in worry about any particular thing. The Caller had a way of surprising her with topics and tasks she didn't expect, and it seemed as though the thing that worried her most was not the thing she usually got. Stepping onto the elevator, she whispered, "I will talk when I get outside. I can't have coworkers hearing these conversations."

"They're usually quite tame from your end."

"Well today I might start screaming at you."

"Oh, I look forward to it. Charting the peaks and valleys of your emotional adaptation is always so amusing."

What a dick.

She didn't speak again until the elevator had opened on the ground floor, she had crossed the lobby and exited, and was walking down the sidewalk away from the building. "OK, I can talk. I don't want to, but I can."

"I've always heard that Millennials don't like talking on the phone. Or are you Gen Z?"

"I'm on the cusp, and you aren't exactly doing wonders for social anxiety."

"No? Not even with all the things I'm doing to bring you out of your shell? Introducing you to new people, having you do new and exciting things, expanding your wardrobe..."

"Ugh. Just...what do you want?"

"Oh, just touching base. We haven't talked for a while and I do so miss our little heart-to-hearts."

"I'm fine. Can I hang up now?"

"You can hang up whenever you want. You always could, as long as you were willing to face the consequences."

"Fine. You're setting the agenda, so talk."

"As I said, tell me how work is going."

"Badly. I want to leave here so much. Every day I spend here is an ordeal. Every time I have to come to work I shrivel up inside a little more."

"So you're a typical American worker?"

"I guess so, though I don't think most of them have work situations as degrading as mine."

"I bet at least half of them would argue that. Why don't you leave?"

"Because Isaac says I need to stay. He says I need to learn humility in the face of adversity."

"And what do you think about that?"

"About staying, or about him wanting me to stay?"

"Yes."

"I have to trust him. He knows what's best for me. That doesn't mean I have to enjoy it. I think not enjoying it is the point."

"So tell me how things are going with your fiance."

Her mouth hardened into a grim line. "Great. Isaac and I are in love."

"And you have no problems with him at all?"

"None that are any of your business."

"But I hear that you've been getting advice about his attitudes. Coupled with your recent adventures, I wondered if that had sparked any new ideas."

Right. Even if he wasn't listening in on her in any other way, Rachel would have reported their discussions of her situation...among other things. "It's frustrating. Isaac is very sure of being right. I mean obviously he knows what the Lord wants of us better than I do, but that doesn't mean he's got the answer a hundred percent of the time."

"What is he wrong about this time?"

She sighed in exasperation. He was going to chivy it out of her one way or another. "About the physical aspect of our relationship."

"It sounds like your libido has awakened recently. What caused that?"

"I don't know."

"No idea?"

"None."

"We can stay on this call all day until you admit it."

"You're a son of a...jerk, did you know that?"

"Consider me a therapist."

"You'd have your license revoked and you'd be sent to prison."

"Speaking of prison..."

"Fine. Doing the sinful things I've done for you have made me want to do more sinful things. That's how sin works. It seduces you with the pleasures of the flesh until there's nothing in your heart but wickedness. Happy?"

"And do you really believe that?"

"Of course I do."

"You used to believe that a woman having sex with a woman was evil too. Do you still think that way?"

"Yes."

"Even after your night of wild sex with Ms. Klinger? I understand you were a very enthusiastic participant. She couldn't get your face out from between her legs."

Sara blushed a sort of radiant red. "Yes, in spite of that. Just because I sin doesn't mean I believe my sins are good. I'm a human being, I stumble. The Lord picks me up again."

"And how was the sex?"

"You've obviously heard from Rachel. You know I loved it."

"Was it better than any sex you've had with a man?"

"Yes, but that's only one guy, and we were basically kids. Neither of us knew what we were doing. Rachel does, so of course it was better."

"And does that change your mind about anything?"

"I...I mean I never understood why two women would do that with each other. Now I do."

"And what do you think about your own sexuality? Has it changed your mind about how you identify?"

She snorted in frustration. "I don't know! I haven't been able to think clearly since it happened. I don't know what it means. Maybe..."

The Caller waited a whole ten seconds before saying, "...maybe?"

"Maybe I'm bi. I know I'm not gay, but...but I guess maybe part of me finds women attractive. Maybe I always have and never knew it. Or maybe I was just horny. I have no clue."

"Your religion has pretty strong teachings about same-sex relationships."

"And those teachings are right. Just because I stumbled doesn't mean the Lord's laws are wrong. If I get a speeding ticket, that doesn't mean I think people should be allowed to drive 90 in a school zone."

"Speeding isn't a core part of anyone's identity. Sexuality is. Are you ready to condemn yourself for wanting what you were born to want?"

"Humans are born to sin, but that doesn't mean we have to embrace it. If the Lord gave me those desires then it's just another opportunity to show my love for Him by overcoming them. That's what the church teaches about homosexuality. We don't hate the sinner, we hate the sin."

A chuckle, electronically distorted into something sinister. "Think about your night with Ms. Klinger. Do you really think I'll believe that you hated that 'sin?'"

"I loved it. I hate that I loved it. I want to overcome that part of me because it can't happen again."

"And if I ordered you to spend the night in her bed, do you think you could keep yourself from enjoying it again?"

"I...I know the Lord forgives sins as long as we do our best to overcome them."

"Answer the question."

It was a long time of internal struggle before she forced herself to admit, "No. I'm sure I'd probably do the same with her as I did before. I do my best. I'm not perfect and I don't pretend to be. But the Lord would forgive me. It's not something I sought out, it's something being done to me."

"They say confession is good for the soul. How do you feel now?"

"I feel like I really want this conversation to be over."

"Is there anyone around you who can overhear you? Who's the nearest person to you and what are they doing?"

She was surprised by the sudden turn in the conversation, but she looked around and said, "There's a guy about thirty feet away looking at his phone. Why?"

"Because I think you need a little more confession. Go over to him and tell him that you recently had sex with a woman and it was the best sex in your life, then answer any questions he has."

The blood drained from Sara's face. "W-w-whaaaat?"

"You heard me. Go do it now."

She didn't move. "Do I have to?"

"Don't whine, it's not becoming. Now go, the sooner you do it, the sooner you're done with it."

It was with a sick feeling in her stomach that Sara stood and forced herself to move toward the man. He was a light-skinned black guy, probably in his early 20s, and with how he was dressed and the backpack he carried she took him for a student. He was engrossed with his phone and he paid no attention as she approached him - it wasn't until she stopped in front of him and cleared her throat that he even looked up. "Excuse me," Sara said, her nerves obvious in her voice. "I have to say something."

He looked at her uneasily. "Yeah, OK...look, I don't want trouble..."

"No, no, no trouble! It's just..." She paused, swallowed hard, and forced herself to say, "I recently had sex with a woman for the first time and it was the best sex I ever had,"

The young man got a baffled expression, and after a moment he started looking around for anyone videoing them. Seeing nobody, he said, "Uh, yeah, OK...why you telling me this?"

"I...am talking to someone on the phone who told me I should tell you."

There was another moment of confusion on his face and then he grinned suddenly, apparently deciding he was part of a sex game and finding the idea amusing. "Oh, like your daddy or something?"

"Or something."

"Alright, I'll play along. How did it happen?"

She felt herself blushing furiously, but she said, "I went over to the house of this girl I know. We had a nice meal, watched some cheesy movies, and...and then we had some edibles. I guess it loosened me up."

"You make the first move or did she?"

"I don't know. It's hard to pin down what the first move was."

"Did you make her come?"

It was funny how acute embarrassment actually gave you the physical sensation of sinking into the ground. "Yes."

The gleam in the man's eyes told Sara that he was enjoying playing his part in her humiliation. How often do you get invited into a stranger's sex life? "How many times?"

"I...five, I think. She gave me a lot more than that, but she's more experienced with it than I am."

"Five? Your first time with a girl and you got her off five times?"

No matter how embarrassed you are, you can always get more embarrassed.

"Yes."

"You must have gone after that clitty like a dog goes after a Milk-Bone."

"I guess so."

"You use toys or just what God gave you?"

She felt dizzy with shame. "No toys. Just fingers and...and mouth."

"You want to do it again?"

"I...don't know."

"You gonna do it again?"

"That's not up to me."

"Doing what daddy says, huh? Well tell him you're a good girl and you told me what you were supposed to." When she didn't immediately follow his order, he grinned and said, "Go on, tell him."

Dying inside, Sara lifted her phone to her face and said, "I told him. He said I did what I was told and that I...was a good girl."

"And he's right. Say goodbye and leave him."

Sara did, and when she was 25 feet from the man she sat down hard on a concrete planter and hissed, "What was the most humiliating thing I've ever done!"

"I doubt that," the Caller said, "but if it was, guess what? You survived. Being humiliated didn't kill you, and you gave some guy a great story to tell that nobody will quite believe."

"Yay."

"And be happy, I'm sending you shopping again."

"If you make me buy another four grand worth of underwear I'll have to get a bigger apartment just to store it."

"No, nothing like that. This weekend you have to purchase two dresses. Think sexy but classy, like you'd wear to a cocktail party full of people you want to impress."

Sara paused to consider. Two dresses? Her budget could handle that, and it actually sounded like he wanted her to buy things that she might almost be willing to wear without coercion. "OK. Anything else?"

"Appropriate accessories to go with them. And heels - three inch minimum."

"I can barely waddle in those."

"So practice. And you're going to a dinner on Wednesday night, so get your hair and makeup done."

"A dinner? With who? Where?"

"A friend of a friend. Of mine, not yours. And it will be at a nice restaurant, so be prepared to behave appropriately."

"Am I expected to buy dinner for us?"

"Oh no, he's a gentleman and you're his date. I'm sure he'll buy you dinner and a nice wine."

Her blood chilled in her veins. "His date?"

"You're going to go somewhere to do a thing with a specific person at a specific time. I believe that meets the definition of a date."

"What will I have to do?"

"Make him happy. He'll be in town over the weekend and I want you to get him to invite you to the party he's attending on the following Saturday evening. That's the important part."

She closed her eyes and put her head in her hands. "How do I do that?"

"Feminine wiles?"

"I don't think I have any of those."

"I think you underestimate yourself. I'll be in touch with more details. Goodbye, Tiffani."

Sara tucked her phone back in her purse and stared at the ground for a few minutes. She wanted to kick something, anything, but she was wearing cheap flats and everything around her was made of steel or concrete so she'd do far more damage to herself than to whatever she struck. That just made her angrier.

She forced herself to stand. The "helpful" guy was still where she'd left him and the last thing she wanted to do was to see him again ever, so she turned the other way, crossed the street, and started to walk. She'd have to go all the way around the block to avoid the guy, but the idea of him smirking at her - or worse, saying something - was too much to bear.

And to think she'd been in such a good mood after lunch.

So. A date with a man, and the man wasn't her fiance. She'd assumed it was coming, but that didn't make it any better now that it was here. She'd have to wear a revealing new dress, get painted like a whore, and endure whatever the man wanted to do to her - and try to get the man to see her again, which meant she had to make him enjoy it and probably convince him that she was enjoying her time with him as well. All while cheating.

This might be the one she couldn't do.

The afternoon at work went by in a numb blur that didn't really end until she was home washing up her dinner dishes. It was only then that she broke down in tears and cried for almost an hour. She was being ripped to pieces and she was going to take everyone in her life down with her.

She knew Isaac was going to be busy all evening with his father working on the weekend's service. He was always tired after that and seldom felt like talking, and it was certainly true that the two of them had barely talked at all this week, but her need for him tonight was marrow-deep. She did the only thing she could: she laid curled up on the sofa listening to old voicemails from him and wishing she could feel his strong arms around her, telling her everything would be alright.

But she didn't deserve it. Nothing would be alright, and it was all her fault.

She barely slept that night.

Friday was uneventful, even dull, and with Josh out on a personal day (Sara suspected that he was crapulent but had no proof) she was able to focus on her own work and get a lot done. She desperately wanted to see Isaac that evening but he was suffering from eating bad tacos at lunch that day and couldn't even talk on the phone for long, much less have visitors. She told him over and over again that she loved him - it seemed important for him to know that before she...did whatever she did.

She knew she didn't merit seeing Isaac, didn't merit the comfort he could give her. The evening stretched long and the night stretched longer. Again there was little sleep to be had.

I hold fast my righteousness and will not let it go; my heart does not reproach me for any of my days.

Easier said that done, old Job, easier said than done.

Saturday, April 17

The day started warm and sunny, and even though she was so tired she was stupid, Sara went about her day as best she could. Her workout did energize her, but she was still a muddle when she got home.

To her very great surprise, when she laid down on the couch for a brief nap, she actually slept for three hours. Naturally that meant that any cleaning of her apartment was out of the question before the Musketrixes arrived, but then they were all long accustomed to the fact that she couldn't keep house worth a darn. A quick race down to the Middle Eastern restaurant that everyone loved and she was back in time for lunch with enough food to feed four hungry women and have leftovers (she especially laid in a large supply of her beloved baba ganoush).

Sara had barely finished setting out the plates and utensils before the girls started arriving. Rather shockingly Emma was first to arrive, but she'd barely made it up to the second-story apartment before the buzzer sounded again, as Kait and Amy had arrived at the same time.

"Have you been sleeping?" Emma asked her as she hugged her friend.

"No, not much."

"I understand, girl. We're all with you."

Once everyone was in the apartment, Sara insisted everyone eat before the serious talk started (she had a feeling appetites might be spoiled by what she had to say). Sara herself was ravenous, and she demolished her first plate of food and went back for seconds. It didn't matter, there was plenty.