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Last night, she'd been treated like a submissive, here to serve a Mistress. Yet she'd also been pleasured to the point of brain overload, and this morning, she was being cared for like an honored guest. It was a lot to think about.
As she ate at least half of the food, she gazed out the big window and wondered if Marguerite and Lyda consulted on gardening tips, because the view reminded her of Marguerite's private side garden at the tea shop. A perfect meshing of plants flowed together around conversation points, like a spiral walkway, a fountain, a meditation bench. A pair of concrete rabbits sat next to the bench, one on his hindquarters while the other burrowed among a lavender-colored sprinkle of flowers. Marguerite might have bought some of her plants from Lyda, though Gen didn't
know how long they'd known one another. She didn't know much about their relationship at all, which made her wonder how much Marguerite could be coaxed to tell her.
No one coaxed Marguerite to do anything. You asked and waited for her decision. She and Lyda had that in common as well, but Gen had noted an intriguing softer side to Lyda, like the expression in her eyes when Noah had gripped her wrist. She'd issued that gentle reproof, Behave, but it had been laced with fondness.
Was Lyda in love with Noah? How would being in love look on Lyda?
She wrapped up the rest of her breakfast and found a bag in a stash of recycled grocery bags to tuck it away, along with heels and bra. She'd eat the remainder at lunch. Gen washed her plate and utensils, put them in the dish drainer. As she straightened, she realized there was no evidence of Noah's presence here. At Gen's house, he'd been very respectful of her space, making his bed in the morning, leaving the room exactly as he'd found it. Was that part of his submission?
Marguerite had said Noah didn't really have belongings, but was there a place here he might leave a book or two, his few clothes draped on a chair? Pocket change on the dresser. Or, given that he gave Lyda his earnings, maybe not that.
She wouldn't know unless she talked to Lyda. Gen sighed. Maybe she could figure out how to hotwire a car.
On that dubious thought, she left the house. Two cats, a calico female and a fluffy black male, curled up in the sunlight warming the concrete stepping stones. They gave her a lazy look, not the least concerned by a stranger possibly stepping on them. It suggested they were used to comings and goings on the property. By customers, she hoped.
In the tidy box she'd put this incredible week, she'd imagine she'd been as special an event to Lyda and Noah as they had been to her. But she was mature enough to know that would be part of the fantasy.
Bending down, she petted both felines. Maybe she'd move the cat adoption up on her timetable. It would be fun to have a cat playing with the scraps of paper in her craft room, falling asleep on the table, keeping her company.
The cats were affectionate, well-fed, healthy. Very likely spayed and neutered, otherwise the female would show signs of repeated pregnancy. Good. Nothing could disrupt her fantasy as quickly as finding Lyda was an indifferent or irresponsible pet parent. She thought about the kind of control Lyda held over the people around her and imagined all that going down the drain when it came to her cats. Did they jump up on her desk, shred paper despite her chastising? Make her laugh as they raced around the house, ignoring stern reproofs about wild behavior? She'd like to see that.
The woman was so self contained. How much could Gen invest in someone she knew so little about? How much of herself would she risk? She'd risked a lot last night.
At this rate, she'd be confronting Lyda for her car keys three days from now. Bidding the cats a reluctant farewell, she followed the gravel drive around the back of the house, back to the nursery. Since it was Sunday, the business was closed, no chance of customers or employees providing a buffer. Gen looked into the open greenhouses. Automatic misters were watering an array of plants, washing humid greenhouse air over her skin. Maybe that was why Lyda's skin was so lovely.
She located Lyda behind the third greenhouse, in front of a field of young saplings. She was wrapping the root balls of a dozen young crepe myrtle trees in burlap. They were probably being transported to new homes tomorrow.
As Gen moved toward her, Lyda's head lifted. In that one sweeping glance, Gen felt everything that had happened last night anew, including those several screaming orgasms. Lyda's gaze covered the way her T-shirt clung to Gen's body, then rose to her face, as if evaluating everything about her state of mind before one word was spoken.
When Gen's attention slid to the right, finding it hard to meet that stare, she discovered Noah taking a nap on a lush square of grass about thirty feet away. He wore jeans and a nursery T-shirt, stretched attractively over his shoulders and chest. He slept on his side, folded arm pillowing his head.
"Midmorning break?" Gen asked low, nodding toward him.
Lyda glanced his way. "He's already put in a good four hours this morning, digging up this stock. As well as making you breakfast and cleaning your clothes. He sleeps better in the daylight, so I make him take a nap midmorning. Else he gets cranky in the afternoon and I have to spank him."
Despite the humor--she assumed it was humor--Gen felt a pang of horror. "He didn't need to do all that. I'm sorry. You should have woken me."
"You're not my employee. Or my committed sub. He is. If I'd wanted you awake, Gen, I would have woken you."
Gen had plenty of bland, polite things to say, but Lyda's directness drove everything away but the thing uppermost in her mind. "I have no clue how to process what happened last night."
Lyda dropped to her haunches, wiped her brow. She had her hair pulled in a tail through the back of the bill cap. The brim shadowed her eyes, enhancing the dark lashes. "How do you want to process it, Gen? An adventure, a one-time event?"
As Gen shifted, Lyda nodded. "It's fine to rationalize it that way, if that's all you want. It's more comfortable that way, to bring closure to it. Right?"
"Yes. I guess. I mean, do you..." Gen trailed off. "It was an amazing night. Very different from what I'm used to. Thank you."
Could she sound more stiff and stupid? Maybe if she broke into song and tried a cartwheel.
"You were a pleasure to command. You should let that side of yourself rise to the top more often."
"I don't know if I'm that way, really. Like you said, I guess all of us have some of it in us, and with the right triggers... Someone like you would bring it out of a person, no matter how dormant."
As Gen spoke, Lyda pulled off a work glove. She gripped Gen's leg above the knee, beneath the hem of the short skirt. "Why are you standing above me, Gen?"
Her hand was slightly damp from the perspiration of her efforts. Gen's knee trembled under that touch. But it wasn't like last night. There was too much reality around them. She backed away a couple steps. Lyda put the glove back on, but gave Gen a frank look.
