by Jen Silver
Watching Astrid and Penny had made her feel incredibly horny. Too bad they hadn’t invited her to make a threesome. It may have been the drink, but she had been on the verge of finding Astrid attractive. Definitely time she got herself sorted out.
So far she hadn’t made any progress. She had given Camila her home phone number on the back of the business card. And Camila had given her nothing. Dani had no idea where she lived, or who she lived with. She didn’t even know for sure if she was gay. There had only been that fleeting second when their eyes met in the bar. Nothing definite; only a feeling. And her intuition of late wasn’t on top form; it had failed her a few times recently.
She could send flowers. That was subtle, sort of. At least Camila would know what Dani had in mind and could decide what to do about it.
Here she was, however, sitting at home at nine thirty on a Friday evening waiting for someone to call; knowing she wouldn’t. Camila had said she had an appointment. Not a date, an appointment. That could mean something or nothing. It could just mean she hadn’t wanted Dani to know she was going home to an empty flat.
Dani started drawing. At first it was an aimless doodle, then the pattern began to take shape, a face. She looked at it critically; she really was obsessed, obsessing.
Friday night was long. She masturbated until her arm felt like it would fall off and she still wasn’t satisfied.
Saturday she was restless; she couldn’t settle down to anything. Saturday evening, unable to bear the thought of another night alone, she went to the club; dressing carefully for the occasion in tight leather trousers, no underwear, and leather vest; likewise studded collar with matching belt and wristbands.
It was an exclusive club; so private that only a select number of women knew of its existence. Dani had tried a mixed venue once. Once was enough. If she was going to let herself be tied up and whipped, she wanted the added pleasure of knowing that a woman was getting off on doing it to her. Some would say, if you put yourself in that situation, what’s the difference? There was a difference. She was getting wet just thinking about it.
†
Dani didn’t get home until six on Sunday morning, elated by the sensations coursing through her as she stripped off her leather gear and turned the shower on.
Walking home had been slow and painful; she wasn’t going to be able to sit down properly for at least a week. But it felt so good. She didn’t know how she had managed to go so long without. The last time had been three months ago. She had promised herself, once the euphoria passed and she was left with just the yellowing bruises, that she would give it up. Now she wondered why she had ever thought she could.
Somehow she didn’t think it would be Camila’s thing, although she had been imagining her wielding the cane, watching angry red stripes form on her lover’s—well, it was a fantasy—buttocks. She had called Camila’s name out, twice. And been given extra strokes for it.
“Who is Camila?” Lisa had asked her afterwards.
“No one you know,” Dani had mumbled.
“Someone I should know.”
“I don’t think so.”
After the whipping, strapping on the dildo and fucking Lisa had been extremely painful. Lisa knew this and made her work hard to bring her to orgasm. She did come, eventually, several times. Dani knew that fucking Lisa like that wasn’t a turn-on in itself. All the other stuff was what made her feel high, stimulated, and somehow, weird as she knew it would seem to anyone else, at peace with herself.
She slept most of the day, waking at last around five, ravenously hungry, in pain. She stayed in bed a little longer, aroused by the memories of the night’s experiences. Ecstasy took over her body again as she came. She heard herself crying out and hugged her pillow tightly. If it had been a warm body, it would have been suffocated in the crushing embrace.
Dani got out of bed carefully and shrugged on a short cotton robe. She called the Chinese takeaway and ran a bath. The food arrived before she could get in the tub, but it didn’t matter. She bathed slowly, savouring the feel of the soothing water on her battered body.
She was still wet when she dressed, pulling on a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a baggy sweatshirt. None of it mattered. Rippling sensations from the cuts across her butt brought a smile to her face. The residual pain and memory of each stroke as it landed would stay with her for days; she just felt so good. Ripping open the cartons of food and emptying them onto a plate, she recalled Lisa’s parting words that morning. She had just managed to put her jacket on over her vest and was standing by the door ready to leave when Lisa came over to her. She was naked except for the black leather harness that outlined her generous pelvis and breasts.
“Hey, babe,” she said, leaning against Dani and slipping her small hands under her jacket. Dani had leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips.
Lisa pulled back and looked at her, “You know…I could fall in love with you.”
“But…?”
“But that would spoil the fun, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t leave it so long next time. I missed you.” Lisa pushed Dani out onto the street and closed the door firmly.
Sad but true, Dani thought as she scooped up some egg-fried rice with her fork. Her relationship with Lisa was the longest she’d ever had. An introduction to the then-trainee dominatrix twenty years ago had been the beginning of her love affair with the cane. She didn’t love Lisa, and she knew Lisa’s words were just an extension of the pleasure she had given her. Their shared history had forged an unbreakable bond that, perhaps, was the closest to a real love either of them would ever find.
Chapter Four
Camila’s weekend had been sedate. She had taken some work home, as she often did, and spent most of the evening tweaking spreadsheets for her monthly financial report.
Saturday she went grocery shopping, washed her clothes, took a suit to the dry cleaners, did some more work on her report, and made a list of things to do on Monday.
In the evening she went to a dinner party at Chris and Deborah’s place in Grove Park. She didn’t go out much, as it only reminded her of happier times. Allison was the sociable one; Camila preferred to stay in the background. She would have liked to duck out of this event, but it was Chris’s birthday and she knew it was an honour to be amongst the select few invited to dinner on the day itself. They were having a bigger party in a few weeks’ time hoping, if the weather was good, to have a barbecue.
Camila arrived just after seven thirty carrying a bottle of wine and a present for Chris. Deborah greeted her at the door. From inside came the welcoming aroma of a mixture of cooking smells. She was the first guest. It always embarrassed her, but she couldn’t bear to be late for anything.
“Who else is coming?” she asked, following Deborah into the kitchen.
“Oh, I thought Chris would have told you.” Deborah tossed her head to get the long dark hair out of her eyes. “There are eight of us altogether.”
“That’s quite a crowd…to cook for, I mean.” Camila always felt uncomfortable with Deborah. Residual guilt from having slept with her partner, but she generally managed to convince herself that it hadn’t really meant anything. Chris had only been trying to comfort her, and Camila was the one who ended it. She couldn’t handle the emotional turmoil; it was too soon for her after Allison, and it was easier to live celibately and keep it all at a distance.
Deborah’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I enjoy cooking. And Chris has helped, mainly by staying out of the way.”
Camila took the hint. “Where is she now?”
“In the garden. Why don’t you join her? I need to check the potatoes.” She bent to look in the oven door.
†
Chris turned from her study of the wisteria vine drooping elegantly on the trellis against the wall of the house when Camila walked out onto the terrace. They hugged in greeting. Chris pulled back and looked at her critically, “What’s this? Someone new in your life?”
“Not even a suggestion of romance?”
Camila could feel herself blushing.
“You can’t lie to me, Cam.”
“It’s just, I don’t know. It may be nothing.”
“Someone has caught your eye. Anyone we know?”
“No. It’s nothing, really.”
“So you say. Is she interested in you?”
“Yes.” Camila recalled the look in Dani’s eyes the night before. She found herself blinking back tears.
“Hey, come on, Cam.” Chris put her arms around her. “What is this?”
“I don’t know. I just, you know…I haven’t felt attracted to anyone for so long, I’m not sure what I feel.”
†
Deborah watched them from the window. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Camila was crying and Chris was comforting her. They thought she didn’t know about their affair. She would have had to be deaf, blind, and indifferent not to have been aware of another one of her partner’s infidelities. Chris tried to pass it off as a chance encounter, but Deborah had known immediately. Camila was the last person she would have suspected, had Chris been smart enough to shower before coming home that time. When she saw them together now, even in larger groups, she couldn’t help feeling twinges of jealousy. Chris had other affairs, ones they talked about, and Deborah knew that Chris would always come back to her.
But Chris had never told her about Camila. Perhaps they still saw each other; she couldn’t be sure. It certainly seemed strange to her that even after all this time, three years, an attractive woman like Camila hadn’t dated anyone seriously. Still, maybe tonight? Deborah turned away from the window. There was no harm in a little matchmaking in self-defense. Camila obviously liked tall, dark-haired butch types, and Sandy fit the bill. Looks were important to Camila with her expensive clothes, flashy jewellery, and perfect hairstyle.
The doorbell rang and Deborah went to answer it.
†
In the garden, Camila dabbed at her eyes with her monogrammed linen handkerchief. She hated to show any signs of weakness, especially in front of Chris. “It’s a bit awkward,” she said, trying to explain. “We met through work.”
“Oh. She doesn’t work for you, does she?”
Camila knew that Chris didn’t have much idea of what she did. As a primary school teacher, the business world was something of a mystery to her.
“Not directly. She’s the art director at the agency that’s done a new TV ad for us.”
“How did you meet?”
Camila told her about the marketing meeting—leaving out the bit about Dani’s black eyes—and the meeting in the bar the night before. “That’s when I realised she was interested in me. She had this crazy story about a T-shirt design relating to the TV ad. I mean, that’s not something I would normally deal with, and she knew it.”
“It was just something she could talk to you about? Did she ask you if you’re gay?”
Camila shook her head. “No. I didn’t give her the chance. I left saying I had another appointment. She gave me her business card with a number written on the back; obviously prepared in advance.”
“Her home number?”
“I guess.”
“So are you going to call her?”
Camila shook her head again. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not? Aren’t you curious? It wouldn’t hurt you to meet her, you know, go on a date.”
“I don’t think she’s the romantic type.”
“Sounds romantic to me. She’s given you her number. The next move is up to you.”
“I don’t know, Chris. I’m happy as I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Chris!”
“But you’re not, are you? You bury yourself in your work, and by keeping your mind occupied you think you can ignore your body. It’s a great body; it shouldn’t be ignored.”
“Chris!” shouted someone from the house, saving Camila from having to respond. “Happy Birthday! What is it now? I’ve lost count.”
“So have I,” said Chris, smiling at the newcomer.
The dinner party was not a success from Camila’s point of view. She was never comfortable in a group situation and sat back watching the others, particularly when they got into a heated discussion of feminist issues. At one point, Chris tried to draw her into the conversation when they were talking about the introduction of hiring quotas designed to give women a fairer chance of promotion in the workplace. Camila’s statement that she would prefer to be promoted on merit didn’t go down well. So she decided not to voice her opinion that she found men easier to work with, as they were generally more straightforward and less emotional.
Eventually the talk veered away from contentious issues and deteriorated into unfavourable comments about the other people they knew who weren’t there. Camila was bored by nine o’clock, but leaving would have been rude. And she had to resist the unwelcome attention of a rather loud woman whose name she had forgotten as soon as they were introduced. She did learn, however, that she was a PE teacher and played rugby in her spare time. Camila knew nothing about the game and wasn’t particularly interested in learning.
It was eleven thirty by the time she took her leave, and she was relieved to get home and into her bed, alone.
Chapter Five
Penny noticed it as soon as she saw Dani on Monday morning. Declan and Gary had been nudging each other and giggling like a couple of schoolkids when she went over to the art department to check on a copy for an ad. When she asked if Dani was in, Declan said, “Yeah, but you’ll have to peel her off the ceiling,” and started laughing again.
Dani was standing at the drawing table, working. It wasn’t unusual for her to draw standing up, but her outfit drew Penny’s attention. She was wearing one of her grottier pairs of jeans and a grubby white T-shirt with the faded message: I can’t even think straight. The red bandana round her neck and ancient cardigan with enough moth holes to match the number of tears in her jeans, completed the ensemble.
She acknowledged Penny’s presence and finished what she was doing before speaking. “Hi. So you’ve come up for air.”
Penny glared at her. “Dani!”
“What? Spit it out, Pen. I left my crystal ball at home.”
“Dani.” Penny could feel tears starting. “You said you wouldn’t….”
Dani looked at her. “Oh for Christ’s sake, you’re not my mother. And don’t tell me you believe everything I say.”
“Why, Dani? Just tell me why?”
“Because it makes me feel good.” Dani carefully enunciated each word.
“But it’s not good for you.”
“Who says? What the fuck do you know about what’s good for me? You should talk. You’ll wear your tongue out licking pussy. And who knows what chemicals you’re sucking on the cling film. You do use that or a dental dam, don’t you, seeing as we’re on the subject of what’s good for you?”
Penny stormed out and slammed the studio door behind her. She managed to hold it together until she got back to her desk, then she let the tears fall.
Why should she care what Dani did to herself, or rather, what she let someone else do to her? As Astrid was fond of reminding her, Dani was a grown woman.
Her computer screen looked as blue as she felt. Penny envied the art department’s latest acquisition, an Apple Mac. The word-processing programme Declan had shown her looked so much more user-friendly than the old version of WordPerfect on all the other office computers. She was sure her copywriting would benefit from being able to type black letters onto a white screen.
She blew her nose and studied the brief she had found sitting on top of her In Tray that morning. Why did account managers think that writing Urgent in red ink on the paper would bring it to the top of her to-do pile? She checked the transmission date and shuffled it into its proper place with the other jobs urgently awaiting her attention.
†
Dani che
wed on the end of her pencil; she wondered if Camila had received the flowers yet. She glanced at the drawing board, and the outline of a face stared up at her. She had been pencilling in the dark eyebrows when Penny arrived.
Obsessing again. What was it about this woman that had her appearing nightly in her dreams? The air of complete control. Perhaps that was the draw. That was something Dani craved. A woman who would offer her a safe space to come home to. As satisfying as sessions with Lisa were, Dani knew they were only temporary, necessary interludes to stave off the overwhelming need. A psychiatrist would no doubt have enough material from her thought processes to fill several books. Tell me about your childhood. Let’s start with your relationship with your mother.
Dani had difficulty remembering any meaningful interactions with her mother. She hadn’t been a dominant factor in her early years. Was that what she was searching for? A dominant female figure in her life?
Camila’s dark eyes captured her from the face emerging under her pencil strokes. This woman could dominate her like no other. She was sure of that.
Smiling to herself, she covered the compelling eyes with a clean sheet of paper and started work on the mailer for the satellite TV company. There were deadlines to meet, and obsessing about a woman who probably wasn’t interested in any kind of relationship with her wasn’t going to get the job done.
†
Gordon sat back in his swivel chair and contemplated the facts of life. One of the facts was that he could afford to buy Dani out. But did he want to? Melissa was pushing for it, but one of the other facts was that she didn’t like Dani. Another fact was that in spite of, or maybe because of, their differences, he did like Dani. She was good at her job. Getting another art director with her talent would be difficult. And he would have no guarantee they would stay with him. He felt a loyalty to Dani, and he knew that in her own way, she was loyal to him. In their business loyalty was a rare commodity. It wasn’t something you could buy. He decided to go talk to her.