by Robin Roseau
"Yes."
"Do you have a problem with my plan?"
"No."
"Excellent. Finish in here then go get dressed."
* * * *
She dressed severely, but in casual clothing appropriate for walking about the town. Her makeup was also severe; she did that in the bathroom while I waited for her. Finally she rejoined me, pulling me into a kiss.
"Where is your hotel?"
We compared locations and realized it was a pleasant walk. And so she took my hand, and together we stepped out onto the street.
It felt so good to hold hands. Such a simple thing, but it felt so good.
We walked to my hotel first, hand-in-hand. At one point while waiting to cross a street, I laid my head sideways against her shoulder.
We talked quietly, not discussing anything important. But at one point she said, "Oh, you are such a joy, Cassidy."
"I am?"
"Intelligence is sexy," she explained.
I preened.
We made it to my hotel, and then she watched as I change clothes. "No," she said when I went for the jeans. "The skirt and blouse."
"And tennis shoes?"
She paused. "Yes," she said.
"All right," I agreed. I dressed slowly then, while not looking at her, I asked, "Do you really think I'm sexy, or are you just giving me the praise I told you I crave?"
She paused before answering, but then she said, "I do think you're sexy, Cassidy. I admit I'm being more effusive than I might normally be, because I can see the reaction it causes. But everything I've said is absolutely true." She paused. She was sitting on the bed, and she patted the place next to her. "Sit."
"I should finish packing."
"Sit!" she said far more firmly. I was helpless to disobey, and I sat meekly, my hands folded.
She caressed my cheek and turned me to face her. "Cassidy, you bring out the best in me. You help me be the sort of person I want to be, at least for the weekend with you. I am not sure I am behaving entirely to my normal style. I am not usually so full of praise for my partners. But I should be. Does that make sense?"
I smiled. That may have been the best compliment I've received from a lover in recent history. I nodded.
"I'm pushing your happy buttons, aren't I?"
"Yes."
"You're pushing mine, too, and I didn't even know I had some of them."
"Really?"
"Really. It's a power trip watching you react to the praise I offer. But the praise is honest and heartfelt, even if in the past I haven't been so quick to offer it to others."
I didn't want to think about others, but I understood what she meant.
"Thank you," I told her. "I'm sorry I'm needy."
"You're not that needy," she said. "Now, finish packing. I enjoy watching you."
"Were you watching my ass?"
"I certainly was. I like the way you wiggled it at me."
I laughed. I'd done that intentionally.
* * * *
I only had one rolling suitcase, and for trips like this, I traveled with just my iPad instead of a laptop. Twenty minutes later found us departing her hotel again, my things safely secured in her room and a card key to the room in my pocket. We were holding hands and giggling like a pair of school girls.
It was a beautiful day to go well with the beautiful company.
She took me to breakfast at a little cafe around the corner from her hotel. We sat across the small table from each other, staring into each other's eyes quite a bit of the time. I found myself wondering if she were as smitten as I was. I found that hard to believe.
"What do you do for a living?" I blurted out.
She paused before answering. "You know, I don't want to talk about that this weekend. I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry," I said.
"No, it's a fair question, but I just don't want to talk about it. I just want to live in the moment this weekend, and work is the last thing I want to think about."
"Of course."
After that, she deftly steered the conversation to more mundane topics for a while. But once we were back on the street, she asked, "What were you like as a little girl?"
We talked about our formative years. She admitted to being a wallflower. "I didn't burst out of my shell until college," she said. "I was the quiet, studious type."
"Me, too," I said.
"Favorite teacher?"
I told her about Ms. Davis. She laughed at the story but admitted she'd had her own crush. "Ms. Phillips was my ninth grade English teacher. But I can't say she changed the entire shape of my future, nor that I ever gave her the slightest chance to guess how I felt about her."
"So you didn't set yourself up to be teacher's pet?"
"No, I certainly did not." She squeezed my hand.
A few minutes later found the bill paid and us on the street. We walked a block and hailed a cab. "Ghirardelli Square, please."
"Chocolate?"
"There's more than chocolate," she said. I stared at her. "Okay, chocolate."
"You know, you can buy Ghirardelli chocolate everywhere."
"I know, but it tastes better when you buy it here."
When we arrived, she made me carry our basket. We went wandering through the Ghirardelli shop. She liked the dark chocolate. I liked the ones with other flavors like raspberry. She bought several of my favorites and a great deal for herself. I eyed it all as my basket grew heavier and heavier.
"Won't it get old before you can eat it?"
"Gifts for my nieces and nephews," she said. "Whenever I travel, I bring chocolate back. It started on a trip to Switzerland."
"Oh," I said. "You can bring Swiss chocolate for me next time, too."
She smiled. "Sometimes I don't have time, so I sneak over to the store and buy whatever I can find."
"Your brother's kids?"
"Little brother has a boy and girl. My older sister has a girl, right between my brother's kids."
"Are you a good aunt?"
"No," she said. "I am impatient with children. I have never volunteered to baby-sit. My older sister tried to guilt me into it, but I refused." I looked over, and Miranda looked a little chagrined. "They're easier as teenagers, and I've started taking them, one at a time, to lunch or dinner. When it's time for college, I'll probably help financially. Both my siblings made different choices than I did. All three of us are equally bright, but they were never as focused. Andrea's a stay-at-home mom now."
"Married?"
She nodded. "He makes an okay living, but their daughter is as bright as any of us, and she studies hard. I don't want her choices limited."
"So you are a good aunt, just not the sort of good aunt your sister wishes."
She shrugged, not answering.
* * * *
We spent a couple of hours playing tourist, first at Ghirardelli Square, then we walked several blocks to Pier 39. Miranda did, indeed, bring her camera, and she took a variety of photos. She actually had a pretty serious camera, and she spent time on the pictures she took. I used my cell phone for my own photos, but I was sure Miranda's were better.
At Pier 39, I offer pleading looks.
"What?" she asked with a grin.
"The sea lions?"
"Of course," she replied. "You can't come to Pier 39 and not watch the sea lions for a while." And so we walked out to the end and stood side-by-side, looking at the barking sea lions. Miranda took more photos, and then she asked another tourist to take a few pictures of us together.
I laid my head on her shoulder, and the second one was of her kissing the top of my head.
"Are you two sisters?" the woman asked, handing back the camera when she was done taking a few more photos.
"No," Miranda answered. "New friends." She took my hand and smiled at me.
We landed at a restaurant a few blocks from the pier, and then a cab ride back to her hotel. She began teasing my body in the back of the cab. In her room, I turned to her, expecting us to stay in and
play, but she simply smiled at me. "I don't want the chocolate to melt." It took some creative arranging; she had bought a lot of chocolate. But it all made it into the mini-fridge.
We did spend a few minutes kissing, but then she took my hand. "It's beautiful outside, and there's a bridge waiting for us."
But she held my hand, and I was happy.
* * * *
She teased me a great deal, some of it with her words, some of it with her fingers. It was all relatively innocent, although I wouldn't have wanted her to treat me like this in front of my mother. But she got me deeply worked up, and there wasn't a thing I could do about it.
In between we talked. We talked about everything.
Except what she did for a living, or where either of us lived. We kept those to ourselves.
I didn't even learn her last name, and she didn't ask mine.
We stayed out until after dinner. We never did buy new toys, and as we made our way back into her hotel, I pointed it out.
"Disappointed?"
"Curious."
"We don't need toys," she explained. "I was having too much fun, and I remember what you said last night."
We arrived at her room. She locked the door and turned to me, smiling, then began to stalk closer. I retreated more fully into the room, and she pursued me slowly, catching me near the bed. She pulled me into her arms; I went willingly.
We kissed, and I clutched at her. My entire body tingled from what she'd been doing to me all day, and I needed her. She broke the kiss and said, "I bet if I asked you the same question I asked last night, I'd get a different answer."
I nodded.
She released me, then prowled around me. "Eyes forward," she said when I turned to watch her. I snapped my eyes straight ahead. Miranda circled me twice before moving up behind me, wrapping her arms around me. She kissed my neck. I clasped her hands.
"I enjoyed your company today," she said into my ear.
"It was a wonderful day, Miranda."
"It was, wasn't it?" she agreed. Then her fingers found the buttons of my blouse, and she began opening them slowly. I laid my head backwards, our cheeks touching now. Miranda bent her head forward, and I knew she was looking over my shoulder and down my blouse.
I giggled nervously.
Miranda took her time getting me naked. I stood where she had directed, cooperating with the process. As she exposed more and more skin, she touched and caressed, and I found myself squirming.
"I love that you're so touch sensitive," she whispered into my ear. "I'm going to enjoy driving you crazy."
Once I was entirely naked, she stepped back. I stood with my head bowed as she studied me; in turn, I watched her through my lashes. Finally she smiled. "Kneel. Head down, posterior in the air."
I lowered myself to the floor and assumed the indicated position. Miranda stepped up to me until her feet tucked under my head. "Kiss them," she ordered.
Of course, I obeyed.
"Good girl," she whispered. And of course, the simple words pressed to my core.
After a minute or so, she stepped away. "Stay there." She moved to her dresser then walked back. "Stay there, but put your arms at your sides."
It was uncomfortable, but I did what she said. A moment later, she leaned over me, tying a scarf around my left wrist, then pulling my arm behind my back. She added the right and tied them together expertly.
I squirmed.
* * * *
She took her time, both giving me what I wanted and taking what she wanted. She kept me helpless the entire time, but shifted me between different positions periodically.
It had been a very, very long time since I've been so expertly taken, and even longer since I'd been treated so well at the same time. She pushed all my happy buttons, and by the time we collapsed to the bed together, I would have done anything for her.
I was completely hers.
* * * *
Sunday was similar to Saturday. Miranda dominated me in the morning, ordering me to please her but effusive in her praise. I fell more completely under her spell. She treated me exactly the way I wanted her to.
And she knew it, too.
We eventually made it to the shower and then pulled ourselves away from the hotel room. Miranda had a car. We drove up to Muir Woods, which is a redwood forest about an hour north of San Francisco. We stayed there for the afternoon, playing tourist and a few times, making out amongst the redwoods.
During the car ride back, she ordered me to fondle myself. I blushed horribly but did exactly what she said. She told me if I came, she would punish me later. Instead, I got myself deeply worked up and even considered coming just to see how she'd punish me. I think she knew, because suddenly she told me to stop everything and to sit demurely.
I squirmed the rest of the way to the hotel.
We showered -- separately -- and then dressed for dinner. We both looked good.
* * * *
Miranda pressed me against the wall, pinning me in place with one knee strategically placed between my legs. She kissed me deeply then leaned away, her knee still holding me in place.
"You have a choice."
"I don't want a choice," I said quietly.
"Completely, utterly helpless," she said. "And then I'm going to tease and torment you. If you come before I give permission, I will punish you."
"How?" I whispered.
"Hog tied and gagged on the bathroom floor while I take a long, luxurious bath and satisfy myself. I won't let you touch me again tonight."
I whimpered.
"That is choice one. Choice two is to serve me."
I lowered my eyes. "Please don't make me pick, Miranda."
"Choice three: do not pick either choice one or two, and I will tie you in the chair and leave you there all night."
I whimpered again.
"Choose," she ordered.
"Why are you making me pick?"
She lifted my chin with two fingers until we were looking into each other's eyes. "Because even if you are normally unwilling to specify a preference, I believe you have one. I even think I know which one it is."
"Helpless," I said.
She grinned widely.
* * * *
It took her a good two hours, but eventually I came, much against my will. I think that was her intention all along. She waited until I had caught my breath before untying me from the bed. I followed docilely as, without a word, she drew me into the bathroom. She pointed to the floor, and I knelt. Then she tied me, treating me more roughly than she had been, but not more roughly than I liked. She finished with a harsh gag before pushing me over onto my side facing the tub.
She took a very, very long bath.
All Good Things
We made love in the morning. After a weekend of kinky play, our Monday morning lovemaking was tame, sweet and lovely. We made love a second time in the shower, but then it was time to pack.
Then we stared at each other. I desperately wanted her to ask for my phone number. I wanted her to...
I wanted her to keep me.
Oh, I knew a full time relationship wouldn't remain as intense as the weekend had been. But Miranda had treated me exactly the way I liked being treated. Plus she was intelligent and fun to talk to besides. In and out of bed, we had seemed compatible.
But she didn't ask. Instead, she pulled me in for one more kiss before leading me to the door. She straightened my clothes, dabbed at my hair for a moment, and made sure I had all my bags.
Thirty seconds later, the hotel room door closed behind me.
We hadn't even exchanged last names.
* * * *
I wasn't stupid enough to try to analyze it. It had been a lovely weekend, far better than I could have anticipated. I'd had some amazingly good sex with a woman who had been effusive in her praise. All right; she hadn't asked for my number. She didn't intend to see me again. There could be a wide number of reasons for that.
But I thought her praise had been heartfelt, and
so I was still high from it.
I was sure, I was absolutely sure she had enjoyed the weekend every bit as much as I had.
And so, I managed to do what I always did: the weekend was perfect, absolutely perfect.
Still, I was subdued for the flight home.
* * * *
"Hey, Mom," I said.
"Cassidy," Mom said. "Did you have a nice trip?"
"The best," I said.
"Did you meet a nice man?"
"I wasn't there to meet men, Mom," I said. "You know that. But I walked across the Golden Gate Bridge and I saw the redwoods. How are you and Dad?"
We talked for just a few minutes. Mom and I never talked much over the phone. We both felt telephones existed for sharing information, not for making small talk, and so the reason I had called was simply to let them know I had gotten home safely.
I didn't really have any close girlfriends to call. That was another reason for Aphrodite. So I dumped my clothes into the laundry, started a cycle, then walked up to study the statue. "It's time for a change."
I couldn't dress her in just anything. She was fixed on a pedestal, so anything I gave her either had to wrap around her or fit over her arms and head. Over the years I had taken clothing I no longer wore and altered them so they fit her.
I pulled off the swimwear she had on and replaced it with a business suit. I had a few wigs for her, so I picked one, set it on her head, then pulled it back into a bun, giving the statue a severe look, or as severe as one could make a statue of Aphrodite.
I gave the clothing an adjustment, eyeing everything carefully, then decided if she was going to wear a suit, she needed a briefcase. I found one I never used and set it at her feet. Then I went to my toy chest and picked out my most innocent blindfold, setting it into her hands.
I smiled.
"Don't go away," I told her. "I'll tell you all about my weekend."
I made dinner first. Sometimes I prepared a plate for Aphrodite. I know, that's a little weird. It's not like she ate it. She was just a statue. I'm not off my rocker. People talk to their dogs. People talk to dead ancestors. People pray to gods.
I talk to a statue. Sue me.
When I returned to the living room, Aphrodite was still there, waiting for me. I told her all about the weekend while I ate dinner. She listened quietly. She was a good listener.
