Geek Actually Season 1 Omnibus

by Cathy Yardley

  Before she could figure out whether she should say something about it—after all, hadn’t he said if there was something she didn’t like she should say so and he would move on?—he had pulled the promised flogger from his bag. Apparently he was moving on to the next thing, anyway, and began flogging her breasts gently.

  Oh, wow. So… stimulating.

  She’d never felt anything like that. Ted had liked to suck on her nipples sometimes, but that was pretty much the only stimulation her breasts had ever gotten before. This woke her skin up and made all her nerve endings spark. She wondered what the flogger was made of. The book had talked about suede and leather, moose hide and lambskin and even bunny fur. She thrust her “teensy tits” into the flurry of blows and the wind from the motion of the flogger blew her hair back from her face. The room was growing full, with many more men watching now, crowding into the room to the point that no one was using the other two play stations except as a vantage point to see what Charles was going to do to her.

  He switched to flogging her bare thighs. That wasn’t as exciting, but it was interesting as a new experience.

  Then he hung the flogger over the chain and reached into her panties to pull out the vibrator and set it aside. He reached into her panties again, his middle finger sliding between her slick lips. Michelle blinked, trying to think of the words to tell him she wasn’t expecting to get so directly sexual so quickly, and while she didn’t mind touching his cock, or him touching her pussy, she wanted to move on to some other kink. Right? He’d said to tell him.

  But his finger felt so good as it sawed back and forth on her ultra-swollen clit. I’ll tell him as soon as he stops doing that, she thought.

  “Let’s see if she has a cream pie,” he said, and it took her a moment to realize he was addressing the spectators, not referring to her in the third person. Some people referred to their slaves, and made their slaves refer to themselves, in that way, as a dehumanizing tactic. At least, according to the book. “Flogging them on the tits always gives a geisha girl a cream pie.”

  And that was the point where Michelle noped out. Nope nope nope. She clamped her legs around Charles’s hand. “I am not a geisha girl,” she hissed, hoping everyone in the room couldn’t hear what she was saying.

  “You’re my slave and you’re whatever I say you are.” He pressed his body against hers, speaking directly into her ear. “And you forgot to say ‘sir,’ again.”

  “You said to tell you if anything we did wasn’t to my liking. Well, race play is one of them.”

  “It’s not race play if you’re actually Asian.”

  “What?”

  “Real Asian women are actually submissive, they don’t talk back so much.”

  “Talk back!” Michelle suddenly remembered she could take her hands off the chain any time she wanted. But she didn’t want to mess up the scene in front of everyone. “Look. I think we should wrap this up.”

  “All right. Drop to your knees and give me a blow job.”

  “What? No, I am not giving you a blow job.”

  “Greedy, aren’t you? If you want to get anywhere in the scene, Misha, you have to be fair. No dom will touch you if they find out you’re nothing but a pushy, lazy do-me queen.”

  “Lazy! How the fuck am I—”

  “You’re not the slightest bit submissive. Do you hear yourself?” He pulled his hand free and wiped her juices on her cheek. “And I don’t want that blow job now anyway. You’re so bad at this that I’m not even hard anymore.” He slung his bag over his shoulder with a maddening shake of his head.

  Tears sprang into Michelle’s eyes and she yanked her arms down, tugging her bra into place. “Fuck you, jerk!” she hissed as he walked away, and then froze as a chill of realization ran down her body. This was so much like an argument with Ted. So much. With Ted the arguments weren’t about sex—usually—but about how her being his wife had made him feel. Which meant if she was an inadequate wife (in his estimation), he felt inadequate. If she didn’t remember his mother’s birthday (which she never did) or say the proper thing at his boss’s Christmas party (how dare she talk about her own work instead of exclusively praising his) or make his favorite food when it was her night to cook (apparently it never occurred to him that he should make his fave when it was his night to cook). He’d never been able to quite articulate it, but she understood now.

  And you know what? I’m not responsible for how Ted feels about himself any more than I’m responsible for this asshole’s erection. Michelle grabbed her mini-cardigan from the piece of equipment next to them and pulled it on.

  She picked up her leggings and boots. No one was watching her now—they’d all moved on to other scenes—but she felt the most self-conscious she’d been all night. She made her way around a group of three with a submissive face down on a massage table—Is that real fire?—trying to get to the restroom.

  And there was Charles, in the narrow hallway next to the bathroom door, working on getting all his toys back into his bag. A butch woman in a motorcycle jacket exited, glaring at him as she went.

  Michelle marched up to him. How poetic that bondage seemed to have freed her to do this. “Well, thank you.”

  “Thank you?”

  “Yes. I think I learned a valuable lesson.”

  He eyed her cautiously. “You did?”

  “Yes. Don’t play with assholes.” She ducked quickly into the restroom then and latched the door. Oh, man. That was childish. But damn, it felt good. Even better than his damn flogger.

  In the restroom, she washed her face and put herself back together. God. Had that really just happened? She felt blindsided by the whole thing. The urge to find someone she could connect with on the deepest level still burned in her gut, on a level that she and Ted had never had, someone who was so compatible, so trusted, so in tune with her that they shared their deepest fantasies together. Maybe just throwing herself at the wall of doms wasn’t the right way to see what would stick.

  Or maybe he was right and she wasn’t a good enough submissive to make that ever work… The tears threatened to come again.

  No. This isn’t about being not good enough. It’s not. It’s not.

  Someone knocked on the door. She washed her face hurriedly a second time, not wanting to monopolize one of the only two toilets on the premises. She emerged to find Mistress Buffy standing there. “Sorry I took so long! All yours.”

  “I’m not in line. I’m here to check on you,” Mistress Buffy said seriously.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You sure? Looked to me like things went south really fast with Domly McDickface in there.”

  Michelle held in a laugh. “You didn’t warn me about Charles!”

  “He always goes for the fresh meat, and I figured he would at least give you a good first scene! No one ever complains about his technique, anyway.” She motioned Michelle aside so another woman could go into the restroom. “But he never lasts more than a couple of months at most. Every submissive he’s ever had has outgrown him. But you set a new record for getting tired of his shtick.”

  “That wasn’t it. I just…” Michelle shrugged.

  “Look, it’s only eleven. You need to vent. The Times Square Shake Shack is open till midnight and only like six or seven blocks away. My treat.”

  “Dressed like this?”

  “On a Friday night in Times Square? I guarantee you we won’t be the weirdest dressed.”

  Michelle laughed. “All right.”

  They got their coats and hailed a cab, since neither of them was keen on walking in heels, and minutes later they were in line. “So do you want to talk about what happened back there?” Mistress Buffy asked. “I mean, only what you’re comfortable talking about. One second he was doing a little light flogging and the next I thought you were going to kick him in the balls.”

  “If I hadn’t taken my boots off, maybe I would have!”

  Mistress Buffy chuckled. “Was it something he said, or something he did?
”

  “Maybe both.” Michelle shook her head. All the years she’d been married to Ted, she’d never really complained about him. Maybe a word of generic exasperation here or there to the Rebel Scum, but she’d always felt like she should keep criticism private. Now it was clear that the person she didn’t want hearing the criticisms was herself. Now there was no reason to hold back. “Let’s put it this way, that scene was like a microcosm of everything wrong with my marriage.”

  “Oh, you’re married?”

  “In the middle of the divorce.”

  Mistress Buffy gave a knowing nod. “I got into BDSM right after my divorce, too. It’s funny. There are all these power dynamics happening even in a supposedly enlightened and equal marriage. I was just blind to them. And once I wasn’t blind to them anymore, once I figured out that ending the marriage was the only way, I realized that I actually really liked power dynamics when they were openly understood and negotiated. Plus, you know, I liked the kinky sex.”

  The line was moving quickly, but they still weren’t even inside the restaurant. Michelle could almost imagine the flavor of the burger, though. Even though the scene had gone pear-shaped, all her senses felt awakened. “I should’ve told him I wasn’t ready for public sex, but I didn’t know I wasn’t until we got to that point.”

  “You can’t always know in advance how you’re going to react to things. Any dom worth their salt understands that consent can be revoked at any time. Sometimes it’s a physical thing people object to. Other times it’s something psychological. Don’t blame yourself.”

  “I’m trying not to.” They had reached the doorway and the cashier taking orders was in sight. “But I do kind of wonder what I should do differently next time.”

  “You’ll know yourself better each time you try it. Not just the physical stuff but your feelings and thoughts about it. BDSM is all about finding someone you can love for their devious and twisted mind. It won’t surprise you to learn there are a lot of book people in the scene.”

  “Are there?”

  “Yeah. People who appreciate fantasy and stories and a good intellectual kick. Almost everyone I know in the scene reads science fiction and fantasy. Or writes it.”

  “Huh. That makes a lot of sense.” Michelle laughed. “What’s funny is I think ultimately both Charles and I were thinking the same thing about each other.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’d be really sexy if you’d just shut up.”

  TANEESHA

  Saturday morning dawned hot and bright in Austin, and Taneesha sat up in bed trying to figure out why her alarm was ringing on a weekend. Or was that her phone out in the hallway? No, wait, the doorbell. She shook herself groggily awake and pulled a robe on over the ratty T-shirt she had slept in. Who the fuck could that be at the door at this hour?

  Through the window, she could see a uniformed delivery agent. Purple meant FedEx. She pulled open the door just as the guy was sticking a Signature Required/Redelivery Request notice on the door. He smiled at her as he peeled it free and crumpled it up.

  “Here you go,” he said, handing her the electronic signature box. She didn’t return his smile, just scrawled her name with the stylus and handed it back. “Having a birthday or something?”

  She blinked. Was this motherfucker trying to flirt or make conversation when she was obviously half dressed and half awake? “Um.”

  “Somebody must like you a lot.” He handed her three packages. One of them was heavy and rectangular, like a textbook. “Saturday morning guaranteed delivery is expensive. Good thing you heard the bell.”

  Maybe he wasn’t flirting. Maybe he was just chatty as fuck. “Thanks,” she managed to croak, her voice still hoarse from sleep, and shut the door before she could find out.

  She put the packages down on the kitchen counter while she looked for the crappy steak knife she used for ripping open packing tape. The heavy one was completely sealed with tape on every edge. She sawed through it until the cardboard pull-tab was free and then pulled to open the box.

  The smell hit her before she even saw what was in the box. Every inch inside the cardboard container had been crammed with shit. She flattened the lid again as if that would help. It can’t be actual human shit, can it? It’s manure for fertilizer or something. But what if it’s dog shit?

  Her stomach rebelled against the stench and she forced herself to focus. She grabbed a garbage bag from under the sink, got the entire box into it without letting any of the poo escape, and then sealed the bag closed and turned on the exhaust fan for the stove. Then she washed her hands. Twice.

  There were still two more packages sitting there. She realized she hadn’t checked the label on the box of shit but she wasn’t about to reopen that bag now. The other two both appeared to be from fake addresses, but the handwriting might have been the same. One was a much lighter box, hardly seemed to weigh anything, and the other was a flat cardboard envelope.

  Well, at least neither of them seems likely to be a bomb.

  She opened the cardboard envelope first. In it was a disc, either a CD or a DVD. It was unlabeled.

  Yeah, right, like I’m going to be stupid enough to stick this into any computer I own? No.

  She put it back in the envelope.

  That left the last box. She shook it and heard something rattle inside. She cut through the tape and looked in. A doll? She slid it out onto the counter and stared at it, her blood pressure rising.

  This is against the law, isn’t it? It has to be. Or do I have to actually be directly assaulted for it to count as a hate crime?

  Sitting there was a naked black Barbie doll with a noose around its neck and its torso impaled on a steak knife.

  Her hands were shaking as she texted Bobby.

  I’m coming over. It’s not safe here. They know where I live.

  Geek, Actually

  Season 1, Episode 7

  Pussy Bites Back

  Rachel Stuhler

  #REBELSCUM

  Michelle: Aditi, I’m not trying to get on your case here, but…

  Aditi: Except that you are.

  Aditi: I love you, you know that. And I’m working as hard as I can. Can we please talk about something else?

  Elli: Seconded.

  Aditi: How are you handling things with Ted leaving, Miche? Do you need anything?

  Michelle: Next topic.

  Elli: We’re just concerned about you, hon.

  Michelle: I’m fine. And I’m not interested in rehashing everything. Life goes on.

  Aditi: Unless you’re seven seconds late delivering a puff piece on being a female writer, apparently.

  Michelle: That’s business. It’s different. And we’re also talking about a whole other novel, not just a blog post or posts.

  Elli: And we’re friends. We care about you. We want to know how you’re doing.

  Aditi: Then let’s abandon both topics, shall we? I’m not going to fight with you.

  Michelle: Who said I’m fighting??

  Aditi: Sigh.

  Elli: It’s weird that it’s just the three of us today. Where are Christina and Neesha?

  Michelle: I assume Christina is hungover, per usual.

  Aditi: Well, she was out pretty late last night… [long pause]

  Aditi: This is the point when you beg me to share what I know.

  Michelle: Oh, God. She wasn’t arrested, was she?

  Aditi: Miche, lighten up. She wasn’t arrested. At least, I don’t think she was…

  Aditi: Anyway, she was all up in the TMZ pics this morning.

  Elli: Christina and Vivi, sittin’ in a tree.

  Aditi: They were “snapped by paparazzi” on a date. Christina looked pretty happy.

  Michelle: Do you think she—dare I say—loves this girl?

  Elli: *Squee*

  Michelle: So Christina is sleeping it off, but where’s Neesha? Given what’s going on, I’m worried that she hasn’t checked in.

  Aditi: I’ll call her now.
AFK.

  Elli: Sweetie, are you sure you don’t want to talk about Ted?

  Michelle: El, I didn’t want to talk about Ted while we were married. Why would I want to now that we’re getting divorced?

  Elli: To vent? Everyone needs that sometimes. Even She-Ra.

  Michelle: Thanks, Elli. I know you’re all here for me.

  Michelle: And thanks for comparing me to She-Ra!

  Elli: Well, I might say you’re more like Frosta, but… Welcome!

  Aditi: Back. Found her.

  Taneesha: Hi y’all.

  Michelle: Hey. We were worried about you. You’re never late.

  Taneesha: About that…

  Taneesha is typing

  Taneesha: Things have… escalated.

  Michelle: What now?!?

  Taneesha: Things are being delivered. Freaky things. A Barbie doll with a noose around its neck and a steak knife in the belly.

  Aditi: What the ever-loving fuck?!!

  Elli: Neesha!

  Taneesha: Stuff isn’t just showing up at my house, either. The mailroom at Starwisp must think I’m a serial killer.

  Michelle: Go to the police.

  Taneesha: I did. They don’t seem to care or believe that it’s really a threat.

  Aditi: Is it even safe for you to go home??? These people know where you live.

  Aditi: At work, you have plenty of other people around. At home, it’s just you.

  Taneesha: I’ve been spending a lot of time at Bobby’s the last few days.

  Michelle: Can you talk to your HR rep? Maybe hire some security?

  Taneesha: That’s the first place I went. And I make a good living, but not enough for a bodyguard.

  Michelle: Go back to the police. Show them the packages. Show them everything you have.

  Taneesha: Like I said, I already did.

  Michelle: They must not understand. Maybe if you explained again…

  Aditi: Michelle, what is with you lately? LISTEN to people when they talk to you.

  Michelle: I AM listening. I’m trying to help.