Anise’s touch gave me confidence. Not enough to ask her if she liked girls like I did, or to ask her about what happened to her leg, but enough to broach the subject of the bruise again. “Tell me about your…reward?”

  “I’ll give you the two-minute condensed version.” Anise smiled and tugged me toward the door. “Come on.”

  In the time it took us to get down the stairs and back to the parlor, I learned that not everything that hurts should be considered bad. Some hurts can be what Anise called a good hurt. The leg injury was a bad hurt, but the bruise over her butt was a good hurt. That’s what I got from the two-minute version anyway. I found it a bit confusing, but Anise said I would learn more as I settled in here.

  * * * *

  Miss Baxter was drumming her fingers on the top of the piano when Anise and I returned. I had a hard time meeting her gaze, wondering if maybe she was feeling impatient with me, and also feeling a little self-conscious standing there in a corset and jeans. But Miss Baxter soon put me at ease with her warm smile and a hand laid gently upon my forearm.

  Anise mentioned something else to me in our brief stairway conversation about good hurts and bad hurts, and that was Miss Baxter’s enjoyment of a girl restrained. That was exactly how Anise had phrased it too—a girl restrained. And judging from the way Miss Baxter’s eyes darted over my corseted body, I would say she was rather pleased with the way Anise had restrained me.

  Miss Baxter turned to Anise and dismissed her with a curt nod. As I watched her go this time, it made me miss her just a little bit. Anise was nice, and she had shared quite a bit of herself with me in the short time we’d been acquainted. I thought it might be nice to share a little something with her, even if it was just Beethoven.

  “From the top please, Julie.”

  My mind was dragged back to the task at hand. “Yes, Miss Baxter.”

  I made my way through Für Elise entirely from memory, even while finding myself completely distracted by the thoughts of good hurts, and girls restrained running wild through my mind.

  What did it all mean? And who keeps spare corsets just lying around that happened to be my size?

  At least there were no distractions from comments about keeping my back straight. Not surprising, as I really didn’t have a choice in this outfit.

  “Julie, that was lovely. Would you mind playing it again? I do so love the way your posture has improved.”

  I smiled. “Yes, Miss Baxter. Anise did a good job of getting it nice and tight.”

  Miss Baxter’s mouth turned up just a tiny bit. “Yes. She’s quite strong, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, Miss Baxter” I said, and began playing again from the top. I felt a little light-headed, and for a moment I couldn’t be quite sure if it was caused by the tightness of the corset or my boldness with Miss Baxter over Anise’s cinching me up. Whatever it was, I liked it.

  I played Beethoven with feeling—the feeling that my piano teacher was always trying to coax out of me in preparation for my recital. But it wasn’t for my teacher that I did it. And it wasn’t for me, or for my parents, or for anyone else. It was for Miss Baxter.

  At the end of my performance she rose from the bench and took up a position behind me. “It’s simply lovely, Julie,” she said.

  I supposed she was referring to the way I played, but I also found myself wondering if she were not also enjoying a better view of her girl restrained, sitting properly at the piano bench. I put my shoulders back as best I could and pushed my chest out.

  Rule number two, I decided. My body looked good in this corset and I was going to be proud of it.

  I think Miss Baxter agreed. She laid a hand gently on my bare shoulder, but that was all. “One more time from the top please, Julie.”

  As I played again, feeling Miss Baxter’s tender touch on my skin, I recalled what Anise had said about rewards and not all hurts being bad hurts. I tried to imagine myself in a situation where I could be bruised and smiling at the same time. And I began to wonder if there would come a time that I would ask Miss Baxter to take me there—to a place of corsets and strong, beautiful girls who smile shyly when they discuss their bruises.

  * * * *

  My after-dinner performance was absolutely lovely, and Miss Baxter wasn’t the only one to phrase it that way. Several of the girls in the boarding house made a point of praising my performance as they introduced themselves. And I rather enjoyed all the attention I was getting as I stood there, ram-rod straight touching hands and leaning in to kiss cheeks.

  I was still laced up tight in my corset, though in the middle of my afternoon of practicing, Anise had taken my measurements, and another girl had been sent to the tailor to fetch me some fitted shirts and slacks for my evening performance. Three of each, so I got the feeling this might become a regular thing.

  “Julie, my dear, I cannot begin to tell you how much I admire the way you applied yourself this afternoon.” Miss Baxter had linked her arm in mine and was pulling me off to the side of the parlor as she held out a business card.

  “I don’t know if you suspected, but your rushed performance today was a bit of a test.” Miss Baxter handed me the card. “A friend of mine runs a very upscale restaurant in town and is currently in need of a pianist—someone with your skills, and your drive.”

  Miss Baxter lifted her finger and laid it lovingly across my cheek as she mentioned my drive. As she looked into my eyes, I began to wonder if visions of my corseted form might be running through her head.

  “I’ve taken the liberty of scheduling an audition for you tomorrow afternoon at two-thirty.” Miss Baxter dragged her finger down my cheek and parked it on the tip of my chin. “It’s entirely up to you whether or not you go, but please do have the courtesy of calling to cancel if you’re not interested.”

  I shivered. Not because of her admonishment about calling to cancel, but because of her finger, still resting on my chin—the finger that that seemed to have a power over me, plying me to Miss Baxter’s will. Or maybe it wasn’t the finger at all, but just the fact that she was polite, treated me with respect, and seemed to have a great deal of confidence in my abilities.

  “Yes, Miss Baxter,” I managed. “Thank you for the opportunity. I really appreciate what you’ve done for me. I haven’t even been here a whole day and it’s just that you, and Anise, and all the other girls here…”

  I stopped speaking. Miss Baxter had moved her finger from my chin and laid it across my lips.

  “Julie, my dear, you can show me your appreciation by nailing that audition tomorrow and securing yourself the position. If you can rise to that…” Miss Baxter paused. “Well, I would be inclined to reward you with a week of extra desserts, or whatever else you might desire.”

  I began to think about what else I might desire. And as wonderful as tonight’s chocolate lava cakes were, I couldn’t quite think of that as the only reward available to me. “Yes, Miss Baxter, I’ll do my best and make you proud.”

  “That is all I can ask.” Miss Baxter actually smiled—not the slight turning up of the corners of her mouth, but a full-on beaming smile. She looked absolutely radiant, and I decided right then that I wanted to see a lot more of that smile, particularly when it was directed toward me.

  “Anise will take you upstairs so that you may retire and be well rested for your big day.”

  I had been so lost in Miss Baxter’s smile that I completely missed Anise coming up beside me. She winked. “Come on, you.” Anise took my hand. “Let’s get you out of that corset and into bed.”

  And just like that, Miss Baxter unwrapped her arm from mine and transferred me to her deputy—her very lovely deputy with the cutest little freckles. I sort of floated along behind.

  “Goodnight Miss Baxter,” I turned to say.

  “Pleasant dreams, Julie.”

  * * * *

  “You look exhausted,” Anise said as we once again stood in my tiny room with her behind me. Though this time she was releasing the tension in the laces of my corset instead of tightening.

  “It’s probably through lack of oxygen. You ever worn one of these things, Anise?”

  “No, can’t say I have.” Anise continued unlacing.

  “I think all that shallow breathing did something to my head. I kept having these weird thoughts about Miss Baxter being able to project her thoughts onto me.”

  “Hmm,” was Anise’s only reply.

  “Anise,” I said, “can you tell me about your reward?”

  “Miss Baxter said you were a quick study.” Anise finished up the last of the laces and tugged at the corset. “Take this off or leave it loose?”

  “Off please.” I turned to face Anise so that she could unfasten the hooks in the front. I suppose I could have done it myself without much difficulty, but it felt nice to give myself over to Anise, and she didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave.

  “So, about your reward?” I said.

  “Julie, how can I explain this?” Anise sighed. “You ever do sports? Work out?”

  “I like to run.”

  “Ah.” Anise smiled like I had just said the magic word. “You know how when you’re running and you think you’re never going to make it as far as you planned, but then you push yourself, and somehow you accomplish what you thought was impossible?”

  I nodded slowly. I was a little bit distracted by the fact that I was standing in front of Anise with my corset hanging open, barely covering my breasts. But I was even more distracted by the crinkling of my nipples and the fluttering in my stomach as I thought about her looking at me, and hoping she liked what she saw.

  “When you’re running, you get those endorphins, that runner’s high when you push yourself. And even though your legs are crying out stop, you keep going, and you push through. You make it on sheer power of will.”

  I wanted to nod again, to let Anise know I was still listening, but all I could do was stare at the floor and struggle with the excitement I felt building as I stood half-naked while Anise explained this strange new theory to me. It wasn’t helping things that my nipples were taut and aching and that the material of the corset made them sing out every time it rubbed.

  “I don’t have the expertise of Miss Baxter, but I can give you a small demonstration if you’d like.”

  Somehow, I managed to lift my gaze to Anise and nod.

  “May I touch you?” she asked.

  There was a small flutter in my stomach at her question. I nodded again, and before I knew it Anise was slipping my corset off and laying it on top of my bed. Boldly, she laid her hands on me to cup my breasts. She does like girls.

  I shivered just a little and sucked a breath, not from cold, but from feeling so exposed. I tried my best to relax, because deep down I sensed that Anise has a gentle soul and would never hurt me.

  “You’re a beautiful girl, Julie. Did you know that?”

  I expelled the breath that I’d been holding and turned my gaze to the floor. Anise took her hand off of me just long enough to raise my chin. I couldn’t help but wonder if she learned that maneuver from Miss Baxter.

  “Shy, too.” Anise gently lifted my flesh in her hands, caressing me. “Would you feel less self-conscious if you were faced the other way?”

  “Yes, please,” I managed to whisper.

  Anise spun me around and pressed herself against my back as she laid her hands on me again. I’m not sure which way was more unnerving. I didn’t have to look her in the eye anymore, but it seemed like her hands were a lot more inclined to wander in this new arrangement.

  “Do you like this, Julie? What I’m doing to you?” She slowly moved her hands from just below my breasts to just above the waistband of my jeans and back again.

  “Yes.” I shuddered as I felt the gooseflesh rising on my skin.

  “I can tell.” Anise snickered just a little. “How about this?”

  Anise lowered her head so that her lips were just touching the top of my right shoulder. She was moving in toward my neck and back again. Every so often I felt her tongue dart out and moisten my skin.

  I shivered again, and I heard an approving moan from Anise.

  She raised her head. “Want me to keep doing it?”

  “Y—yes, please.”

  Anise lowered her lips to begin moving over my shoulder again. This time she made it all the way to my neck and swirled her tongue, tracing over the outline of my collarbone. I shivered, more violently this time, and my knees began to feel like they might not support me anymore. And then she stopped.

  I moaned and bounced on the balls of my feet trying to encourage her to start up again. She never ceased the gentle caressing of her fingers, but she had moved her mouth away from my shoulder and perched it by my ear.

  “Patience, Julie,” she whispered. “I’ll keep going if you want, but I want something from you first.”

  “Okay,” I breathed.

  “Don’t you want to know what it is before you agree to it?”

  Anise had clamped my earlobe between her teeth as she waited for me to mull it over. She was raking her nails over my stomach at the same time, making it very difficult for me to think clearly.

  “Um,” I said.

  Anise chuckled. I almost laughed too, but then she dug her nails into my abdomen again and I shuddered instead.

  “I like you, Julie,” she said, “I want to leave my mark on you. For you to have something to remember me by over the next few days.”

  I said nothing. I had no idea what she was talking about—leaving her mark on me, remembering her—and what any of that had to do with her kissing my shoulder, or her liking me, or anything else.

  “I want to give you a little bruise with my mouth.” Anise lowered her lips to kiss my shoulder. “I’ll do it right here where no one else will see it. Only you and I will know. Would you like me to?”

  Anise sucked gently at the skin of my shoulder and I knew what she had in mind. She wanted to give me a hickey like some sort of high school kid. But right then, as she expelled her warm breath over my shoulder and cupped my breasts in her hands, I thought about it and it sounded like a really good idea.

  “Yesss.”

  “Yes, what?” Anise said, rolling my nipples gently between her fingers and thumb.

  I moaned and ground my backside against Anise’s hips.

  “That’s nice, Julie,” she said, “but I want to hear you say it. Ask me to leave my mark on you.”

  “Ohh, gawd,” I moaned, pressing harder against her.

  “Ask me.”

  “Do it, Anise. Leave your mark on me.”

  “A little more politeness in your tone and I just might. I won’t make you beg, but…” Anise touched the tip of her tongue to my shoulder.

  “Please, Anise. Please…”

  Anise wrapped her arms around my waist in a bear hug while she began sucking on the skin of my shoulder. I shivered violently and probably would have collapsed if it were not for her strong grip. She sucked harder. She didn’t stop sucking until I let out a little squeak.

  “Too much?” she whispered.

  “Mmm, no.”

  Anise had relaxed her grip on me, but still offered me some support as she planted little kisses all along the length of my neck. She gently laid her index finger next to where her mouth had been.

  “I just bruised you, Julie,” she said. “And you asked me to do it. See how that works?”

  Anise turned me around so that I was facing her again. I stared at the floor, unable to meet her gaze or respond to her question, but I did feel a slight smile crossing my lips.

  “Miss Baxter is much better at it though. She won’t even have to touch you and you’ll be eating out of the palm of her hand.”

  “Anise?” I looked up into her eyes.

  She gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek. “No, I can’t stay,” she said as though she read my mind. “Besides, you need your rest. Miss Baxter wouldn’t want me wearing you out before your audition.”

  I pleaded with my eyes, but to no avail.

  “Sweet dreams, Julie.” Anise closed the door behind her.

  * * * *

  And I did have sweet dreams as I lay there alone in my bed that night, and over the next several nights—not just of Anise, and the slowly fading bruise on my shoulder that I asked her to give me—but of everything. Everything about Miss Baxter’s house was new and exciting. I felt like I finally had some structure in my life and things were going my way.

  I absolutely nailed my audition and was now playing three nights a week along with Sunday brunch. I was also enrolled in the piano pedagogy program at the university, which is basically a fancy way of saying majoring in piano teaching. Yeah, me. Miss Baxter thought it would be a good fallback during the times when performance gigs were scarce.

  Listen to me, talking like I own it. But that’s how I felt. For the first time in my life I felt like I could do anything. All I had to do was follow Miss Baxter’s three rules and I was practically invincible.

  And of course, there was the matter of my reward. I was meeting Miss Baxter this afternoon in her extra-curricular room to claim it. She had scheduled it on a day that I didn’t have to work. She said it would be better not to feel rushed.

  “Julie, my dear, please come in.”

  I don’t know how she does it. The door was only open a crack, and she couldn’t possibly have seen me yet.

  “Yes, Miss Baxter.” I pushed the door open to see a massage table in the middle of the room with Miss Baxter standing at the head of it. She was wearing her usual dark trouser suit, but the jacket was hanging over the back of a chair where Anise was seated and the sleeves of Miss Baxter’s shirt were rolled half way up her forearms.

  It was brighter than I expected, too. I don’t know why that surprised me, but I guess I was expecting some kind of creepy dungeon with manacles and chains and other instruments of pain lining the walls. All I saw on the walls of Miss Baxter’s extra-curricular room were shallow blond wood cabinets, kind of like a doctor’s office.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve invited Anise. You two seem to get on well, and I thought it would be good for you to have a friendly face and a comforting touch if needed.”

 

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