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“Except that one,” Robin suggested.
“Except that one,” Leslie agreed. The woman’s mannish face appeared in her mind, as if Jane had taken up residence and was watching her now.
An hour later, the twilight glow around them had faded to darkness. Leslie jiggled the sleeping Robin. It was the first time in a week, since the case began, that Leslie had felt this peaceful. She knew it was the sex and Robin that made her feel this way, but she also knew that the feeling would be short-lived, and this brief respite would only add to the confusing mix inside her.
“Don’t you suppose we should go find Jane now?” Leslie wondered aloud.
“Why?” Robin asked opening one eye.
“I thought you were the one who wanted to take our findings to the police right away.”
“It can wait.” Robin stretched lazily against Leslie’s warm body.
“It’s only,” Leslie reached for the clock by the side of the bed, “ … eight o’clock.
“My how time flies,” Robin said, sighing. Her hand moved slowly over Leslie’s thigh. “You did pretty well for your first time in bondage.”
“First time, huh? Maybe it wasn’t the first, how do you know?” Leslie joked.
“I’d know. I’d see it in your eyes.”
“Yeah, you probably would,” Leslie agreed. “So do we go stake out the mansion and wait for Jane to show, or do we lie here in bed all night?”
“I’m opting for the latter. I guess I’m a slut at heart, if you hadn’t taken off your clothes for me, I’d say we go back to work. But since you’re naked and I am too, and we can do anything our hearts desire all night long, I think we should just stay.”
“Well I don’t know about anything our hearts desire,” Leslie said, “but I do like the prospects of spending the whole night in this bed. I’ve slept in a four poster before, and this is downright,” she searched for a word, “bohemian.” She stared up to the dark canopy, a deep black hole that seemed to be dropping down to surround them both.
“I’m glad you like it. I thought you might,” Robin said. Almost as if she’d planned this place especially for Leslie. “We’ll see what other possibilities evolve. How about a little break, some decaffeinated cappuccino?”
Chapter Thirteen
Leslie opened her eyes in unfamiliar surroundings. There were four posts around her that for an instant made her think she was in the midst of a bad dream, in the middle of Felicia’s last nightmare. Feeling another body beside her, she looked to see Robin sleeping with her back to her. What a memory that raised! The lovely curve at her waist widened to her hips and the soft flesh of her undulating rear cheeks, with their pink cleft. Her blonde hair was strewn around her in casual disarray, which only added to her sexual allure. The aroma of her body was strong and sweet to smell. What had gone wrong between them? she wondered. At that moment, she could hardly remember. If she touched her, would she awaken? No, she wouldn’t spoil the moment; Robin was like a child at rest, peaceful, content, perfect as she was.
Leslie wanted to wish away their awkward moments together. Beginning anew was tough, but there were things they couldn’t avoid. She hoped that Rosalie hadn’t come home the night before. Her pretty Latina lover wouldn’t worry about her being gone. But still Leslie felt guilty… especially since she wasn’t working at all, but having sex with her former lover.
The truth was, Robin was a better lover than Rosalie, not that Rosalie wasn’t wonderful in her own endearing way. But Robin was always the best; she always had been, and likely always would be in Leslie’s mind. After everything the two had been through together over the past ten years, Leslie was still in love with her business partner and she imagined that would never change.
It was hard to take her mind off their surprising reunion… once the initial sex was over, they drank decaffeinated cappuccino in the nude, then showered before tumbling back in bed, giggling like school girls over some really stupid old horror movie on TV. Suddenly the tables were turned when Leslie impulsively tied Robin’s hands above her head. She slapped the blonde’s breasts until they were red all over, listening to her egg her on, “Don’t stop, ooo yes, do it more…” Robin had repeated a dozen times. The feeling of dominance Leslie experienced had been remarkable. Having Robin at her mercy produced a feeling of power that was as good an aphrodisiac as any sex act she’d ever experienced. It was sexual, but it was so much more that – all still difficult for her to understand.
Was this what Jane felt when she grabbed at chains suspended from clamped nipples, or raised a whip against immobile flesh? Did Jane cum just from the sensations of power that brute domination generated? Leslie didn’t orgasm in the midst of abusing Robin’s tits, but she might have if she’d gone on long enough. She stopped short of letting the feeling overtake her body, needing to move slowly into this foreign world. At least for now.
They loved each other long into the night, long after the clock across the street hit midnight. And then, sometime in the wee hours of the morning, they collapsed into a heap exhausted, and fell asleep.
Even when they were living together, they hadn’t had sex like that – that long or that wild, that profoundly powerful. Maybe Robin was right, Leslie mused, maybe she needed to dive into the savage fetish life that was all around her now.
For the first time ever, she wanted to know everything about Robin’s S&M scene. What her Dommes were like, who’d marked on her breasts – the small marks on Robin’s flesh that were now just faint lines etched into her pearly skin. How had Robin felt when the blows were delivered? And how long ago had it been? Maybe just a day or two, maybe a week? Maybe
in the last few days, Robin had submitted to another woman. Leslie’s quaking body shivered at that thought. And who was that other woman? Were they lovers too? Or just top and bottom? Domme and sub?
Leslie looked at her own breasts, seeing that she was still able to distinguish four of the six cuts Robin had burned into her flesh the night before. She’d been hurt, abused – if ever so lightly. She’d been at Robin’s mercy, and she realized only now how much she loved the surrender that had been demanded of her while she’d been bound. Would she feel the same way if she were bound by Jane, her breasts marked by Jane’s crop, her mind and body forced to surrender to Jane’s command?
Leslie pulled herself from the bed; she didn’t want to but she had to pee. On returning to the room, she saw Robin’s peacefully sleeping body, and for a moment, she stared at her lover’s gentle face before she reached down to pick up the alarm clock that had fallen to the floor sometime in the midst of sex the night before.
“Damn,” Leslie said aloud. It was nearly nine o’clock. It had been weeks since she’d slept in that late.
The phone rang and she answered it, while seeing Robin open her eyes and stare up at her in wonder.
“Leslie?” The voice was all too familiar.
