Blushing Maid, page 12
It was hard to believe that it had only been three months since I had moved into this place; sometimes, it felt as though I had been here my entire life, like I had been born and raised and grown in this apartment. Maybe that was just because it was the first place I had ever really, truly felt at home. I could be myself when I was here, the version of myself that I had always been too terrified to be before, and that was a gift I never thought I would be able to give myself.
It had been quite a ride, making the decision to move in here with her; not until I was actually installed in this apartment did I actually believe that it was ever going to happen. It had all come about so quickly, so fast I had hardly had time to wrap my head around it. We had told Rick what we had been thinking about for the two of us, and he had agreed at once; even offered to rent out a new space above their current home so that I would have somewhere to stay. He was one of the only people who actually knew about what was going on with us, and he had been unendingly supportive since the very beginning. Without him, we would never have been able to do this, and I would always be grateful to him for that.
We didn’t see a lot of him, these days, though, because he spent most of his time traveling and hooking up with his various women across the country. Not that I blamed him for it at all. Now that he knew Alana was taken care of, why shouldn’t he go out there and have a little fun? That was certainly what we were doing whenever we had the place to ourselves. Whenever anyone asked, I was introduced as their live-in help, and even though I was sure people were starting to second-guess it now, I figured that they knew better than to pry.
And it was wild to me how much Alana had changed since we had gotten back here, too. Of course, I had assumed that she would switch things up a little, that she would finally let go of the persona she had been clinging on to for dear life and allow herself to cut loose, but it had been a joy to watch her transform herself into the woman she’d always wanted to be. We had a little studio in the apartment that Alana used to paint in, the first time she had gotten back to painting since she had married Rick, and I loved ducking in after school to check in on what she had been working on. I thought she was amazing, but then that was true of pretty much anything and everything she did, so perhaps I wasn’t the most unbiased eye in the world. She had painted a portrait of me, in all these beautiful bright rainbow hues, and I had hung it in my bedroom where I could see it whenever I woke up. It was so full of life, a perfect capturing of everything I felt when I was with her.
As for me, I had turned my attention to school – Alana had paid for me to attend the most prestigious university in the state, where I was studying for my Ph.D. It had been hectic, of course, between the teaching and the writing and the research and the getting to know all these new people in this brand-new city, but I had loved every minute of it. It was strange to think of the woman I had been before I’d met her, so tightly-wound, keeping everything so close to my chest for fear someone would see through me and figure out what I was hiding. These days, I could drink and dance and talk with the people I worked with as though it was second nature. And yes, most of them knew I was a lesbian. Nobody knew about the fact I was having a live-in relationship with a superstar businessman’s wife, but hey, baby steps, right?
I haven't told my family about us as of yet, even though I would have to swear them to secrecy! I would like to think they would be nothing but supportive about finding out the truth. I picture my mom being a little smug about the whole thing, nodding sagely and telling me that she had always wondered if there was more to me than met the eye. My father wouldn't seem to care, as long as I was happy and followed my heart –when they met Alana, my father and her would get on like a house on fire, sharing their love of art and history. I think it would be amazing, and a little surreal, to see it unfold like that right before my eyes after so long hidden away in the closet, terrified of what would happen if I were to tell the people I hold so dear the truth about me.
Sometimes, it was difficult not to be a little frustrated when I thought back to all the time that I had wasted hiding out in the closet, shit-scared that someone was going to find out the truth about me. But these days, I tried not to let it get to me so much. I had done what I had done because it felt right in the moment, and now that I was coming out, I could find all-new ways of feeling right.
"You going to get out of bed?” I called through to Alana once more, even though I knew the chances of seeing her before ten in the morning were futile. I was always up and around early, making sure I had everything together for my classes that day, but she would stay up late painting and hang around in bed for the rest of the day if she got the chance. She often told me that I would understand where she was coming from when I got to her age and ran out of my youthful energy, but sometimes I suspected that she was just being a lazybones.
"No," she called back, playing at petulant. I grinned to myself. I knew just what she was angling for, and I was more than happy to give it to her. She was always so delicious when she was like this, teasing me gently, tempting me until I got back into bed with her even though I had much better things to be doing than fooling around with her. Actually, who was I kidding – I could never think of something better to do than just that.
I left the cereal that I had laid out, the coffee pot steaming on the counter next to me, and headed back through to the bedroom to join her. She was naked, the covers tangled over her body, and damn did she look good. These days, the happy glow seemed to come out of her every pore, her system singing with the sweetness of how happy she was. I didn’t realize contentment could be that obvious on someone, but when I saw it on her, I knew there was no denying it.
"You should really get out of bed and have something to eat," I suggested, but she slid her hand down the space where I had been resting just a half-hour before and raised her eyebrows.
"I don’t want to make a cheesy breakfast-in-bed joke," she replied. "But if it’s going to get you to come join me..."
I slipped back on top of the sheets, and she grinned at me widely as I brushed the hair back from her face and gazed into her eyes. God, she was so beautiful – sometimes it actually made my heart ache when I looked at her, this woman who I loved more than anything in the world. I would have done anything to make her happy. And if sliding down between her legs was what made her happy...I was sure I could see my way to doing that.
"Lie back," she murmured to me, and that was when I realized it wasn’t me she wanted to go down on her. If there was a better way to start the day than this, well, I hadn’t found it yet.
She pushed me down onto the bed and kissed me, hard, the kind of kiss that told me she had been thinking about doing this all night long and wasn’t going to pass up the chance to explore me now that she had me where she wanted me. She pushed her hands beneath the shirt that I had slipped on with the intent of leaving for work, and she moaned against my mouth as she brushed her fingers over my nipples. I didn’t bother wearing a bra much these days – my breasts were small enough that I could get away from it, and knowing that she had constant access to my tits whenever she wanted them was way too exciting to pass up.
"God, I love the way you feel," she groaned against my ear, brushing her lips ever so lightly against my lobe; she knew how much that drove me crazy. She had spent time learning every single little detail of my body since we had moved in together, making sure that she could know me inside and out, and I swear every time she put her hands on me now I knew she was going to blow my mind. It was crazy to me how I had never realized that this was what sex was meant to feel like – thrilling, constantly evolving, desperate and desired and needed for pure survival. I couldn’t have bared being around her if I knew I could never touch her again. Simply sharing a room with her was enough to set me off sometimes. Maybe it was just because it was the first time either of us had allowed ourselves to indulge in such a way, but I couldn’t see lesbian bed death being much of an issue for us.
She moved down my body quickly, knowing that she didn’t have much time before I had to leave for work and determined to send me off with an orgasm the way some others might have sent their partner away with a bagged lunch.
She peeled down the pants that I had slipped into just a few minutes before – maybe I had brought this on myself, at least a little, because I had picked out the ones that I knew she liked me in. She always ran her hands appreciatively over my ass when I wore them, and I had caught her peeking out from under the covers as I’d slipped into them.
"God, you smell so good," she murmured, kissing across the top of my panties, the little line of lace where the fabric rested against my skin. She moved down, letting her lips tease my pussy through my panties, and then, finally, she pulled them off and pressed her mouth to me again.
It didn’t matter how many times she did this for me, I would never get tired of the way she felt when she had her face between my legs. I flashed back to the very first time, when it had felt like the world was tipping over on its head just from the feel of her eager tongue against my clit – and honestly, these days, it felt even better. I knew how to move my body to match hers, how to shift on the spot to let her find those parts of me that drove me utterly crazy. I reached down and grasped her head, holding her in place, and pushed my hips back up against her face.
"Oh my God..." I groaned as I felt her tongue flatten against my clit, moving in soft, swift motions against my skin. She knew just what I needed. There were times when she would have happily stayed there all day, using toys and her tongue and her lips to get me to come over and over again, but I knew that right now she understood that I had to be out the door sooner rather than later. All I needed right now was her to get me there, to give me what she knew I needed.
"There, right there," I gasped, as she sealed her lips around my clit and began to apply a little pressure. I looked down at her, at the woman between my thighs, and I couldn’t help but smile. How had we come this far? When I had first met her all those months ago, right when Spring had been turning to Summer, I could never in a million years have imagined that we would have ended up here. And yet, I knew that’s what I’d wanted, whether I would have been willing to admit it to myself or not. I wanted her body, I wanted her mind. I wanted her, her, her, everything that came with it, the good, the bad, the beautiful and the ugly, the pain and the pleasure. I needed it, all. The only way I could truly feel alive.
"Fuck, yes..." I moaned as I came, pushing my hips back against her face and lifting myself slightly off the bed. The pleasure was sharp at first and then mellowed into pulsing waves of relief, my body tingling from head to toe as it shuddered through me. I reached down and pulled her on top of me, kissing her deeply, tasting myself on her. Man, that always drove me crazy, the reminder of where she had just been.
"You know I can’t repay the favor now," I murmured with a smile. "But as soon as I get back..."
"I’ll be waiting with bated breath," she replied, nuzzling into my neck and kissing me. I giggled, holding her close. I could have stayed here all day if I’d had the chance, but I knew heading out to work would only make coming back to her that much sweeter. No matter how much I just wanted to pull the covers up and over us and forget that the rest of the world existed.
"I love you," I murmured, and she turned to face me, her eyes glowing bright with life.
"I love you, too," she replied, and she kissed me again. And I knew that I wasn’t going to be heading off for work quite yet.
Everything else could wait as long as she was here beside me.
That, I knew for certain.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
My Dearest Darling Reader,
This is a happy ending, right?
Billie has finally admitted to herself that she’s gay. Alana has finally allowed herself the intimacy she’s been deprived of for so long. As for Rick… well Rick turned out not to be a complete dick.
But is this really a happy ending?
What happens when they move back to the big city?
Will Billie really be satisfied to pretend, for the rest of her days, that’ she’s nothing more than a maid to Rick and Alana?
Why is Rick even in the picture anyway? He’s just some random dude at this point. Aside from the fact that he’s her boss and pays her bills, why should she even have to tolerate his presence?
Why should Rick have a say in anything at all?
And what about Billie’s family?
Do you think that her small-town mom and dad are going to be perfectly hunky-dory with Billie’s alternative lifestyle?
Isn’t it the greatest wish of a mom and dad to see their little girl bring home a nice boy? Someone to celebrate the holidays with, someone to fill the house with the laughter of grandchildren, to carry on the family legacy, have and to hold in sickness and in health, ‘till death do they part?
As open-minded as society is, the binary male-female dynamic has existed since the dawn of time across all cultures for one reason: it works.
Men are strong. Women are nurturing. Men are protectors. Women are providers. Men solve problems. Women make the world beautiful.
Heck, it’s almost as if nature designed men and women to be perfect counterparts for each other.
Perhaps this is why society gets so goddamn antsy when we break that dynamic.
If Billie thinks that life is all sunshine and rainbows from now on, she’s got another thing coming.
This is nowhere near a happy ending. Not yet anyway.
Read on.
Love,
Viktor
Book Two
Chapter 18
Play it close
"I can’t believe this is really happening," I murmured to Alana, once I had managed to drag her away from the fancy investors she had been talking to. Alana bit her lip and nodded.
"I know," she agreed. "This is amazing."
And it was – Alana's very first art show, or at least, the first one where she was displaying all by herself. I couldn’t have been more proud. She had worked so hard to get to this point, and I knew it had taken so much from her, but now, we were in a small gallery downtown and the place was packed-out with people who seemed keenly interested in her beautiful work.
Not to mention the fact that she had taken the chance to get dressed up for the first time in a while, and she looked stunning. She had on this figure-hugging cream dress that seemed to cling to every single curve, and it took every bit of restraint that I had to keep myself from finding the zip and coaxing it down so that I could get my hands on her.
"Excuse me, could I borrow you for a moment?" A handsome man, a few years younger than Alana, asked, smiling politely at me but with his eyes still fixed on the object of his affections. I had to press my lips together to keep from giggling. If only he knew just what he was getting himself into. Or, rather, what he wasn’t getting himself into.
As I watched her walk off with this younger man on her arm, I wondered if she would have preferred it if it was me. I knew that it was a silly question – of course she would have, she had made that clear so many times over – but I still couldn’t find the discomforting insecurity that got the better of me whenever we were out and about.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like what we had. I loved it. But loving it and loving her in secret were starting to get a little gruelling. I just wanted to be able to be honest about the way I felt about her, but that was never going to happen as long as she was still so firmly in the closet, hiding out from her family and everyone else who was around us.
I had been “working” for them for nearly a year now, and sometimes, it just felt like she was keeping me around because she knew she wouldn’t be able to find anyone else as long as she stayed in the closet. I tried not to think about that, but it was difficult when everything that we had was conducted under cover of darkness, in silence, so that nobody would find out what was actually happening.
And I knew there were plenty of good reasons for that. We had to keep things under wraps so that everything could keep going as it was. If someone was to find out the truth of what was happening, the whole thing that we had carefully put together could have fallen apart in an instant. Her marriage with Rick would be over, obviously, and I was sure that he wouldn’t waste much time in moving on. And what then? How would she cope with the one person she had been able to rely on all these years leaving her?
I had hoped that I might be able to move into the spot of the other person she could rely on, but the more time that passed, the more it seemed like she would never quite feel that way about me. She had been self-reliant for such a long time, keeping everything so carefully pinned to her chest, that even letting me in, sometimes, was difficult for her.
When the young man had lost his interest in her – or at least picked up on the fact that nothing was going to happen between them – Alana came back over to me, a glass of champagne in her hand, a huge smile on her face. I wanted to be able to return it, but in truth, I was feeling too pissy about the fact that we couldn’t just tell people what was going on between us. It had been a point of contention for us all week long – this was her coming-out as an artist, and I had suggested that it would be the perfect time to come out as a lesbian, too. But she had deflected and put it off and avoided the conversation until the night of, by which point it was far too late to start thinking about such drastic measures.
"What’s wrong?” She asked, as she apparently noticed the look on my face. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, it’s fine-"
"You didn’t hear someone talking shit about the art, did you?” She asked, her gaze flashing back and forth as though she could sense the very judgement of the people around her. I shook my head, and squeezed her arm gently.
"You have nothing to worry about," I promised her. "Everyone loves it."
