Sam nodded again and took a deep breath. In the same way that the needles induced clarity, this did the same thing. She was feeling high on endorphins, her skin electric and alive. Again she felt the burning pull, as if she were being torn open. She felt as though any toxic thought or environmental impurity were draining from the open wound. All negativity came rushing out like some psychic drain had been uncorked. Any ill will or bad memory was slowly seeping away like blood. After a moment the tearing pain stopped and Tiffany leaned close.
“I swear I can smell your blood,” Tiffany whispered. “It’s the most beautiful red.”
As the chef continued the pain began to change form, morphing from a burning tear into a purely heightened state of being. It seemed like an eternity, moments upon moments being carried by a sea of endorphins and dopamine well beyond the constraints of her physical body. She felt connected to Tiffany, connected in a way that she understood would tie them together forever. Beyond being an act of submission and trust it was a shared ritual in which they were equal partners. Surrounded by white light Sam felt like she could fathom forever, understand eternity and move past any boundary of physical space. She could see her past and her future and was certain that in this moment she was in the exact right place. Finally, after what felt like flying forever, she felt herself floating down, spinning back into control and rejoining her body once again. The searing pain was gone; the dull burning sensation replaced by a hot ache. Her psyche exhausted from contemplating the infinite yet sated, her skin tired and angry she felt a little changed. For the most part she was still herself, but something was different and there would be no returning to unknowing what she’d experienced.
“Can you sit up?” Tiffany asked when she’d finished blotting Samantha’s skin.
For the first time Sam looked at the spent squares of gauze and felt a little light headed at the amount of blood she saw. She sat up and Tiffany handed her a mirror. She moved so her back was to the large dresser mirror and looked at herself reflected in the hand-held mirror. She blinked a couple of times, very surprised by what she saw.
She had been certain that the blade cuts were arched in shape. She had assumed that was what the pulling sensation was from. Instead she saw a small rectangular area of skin, maybe four inches wide by three inches tall filled with a series of vertical and horizontal cuts. The cuts themselves were maybe a quarter of an inch long, their geometric pattern creating the ultimate illusion of a rectangle. A small amount of blood was continuing to seep up and Tiffany blotted the wounds carefully. She didn’t think ‘beautiful’ was a word she’d use to describe the marks but she also felt that it did indeed suit her. It was ordered, focused, contained, and introspective. All words she could use to describe herself. Tiffany covered the cuts with the larger gauze bandage and used some of the cloth tape to hold the bandages in place.
“Don’t scratch at it when it itches and it might not scar. If you scratch it, all bets are off.” The chef warned.
Sam put down the mirror and glanced at the clock. It was 11:06. She couldn’t believe it’d only been nineteen minutes. She would have guessed a half hour or more. Absently she wondered if endorphins or dopamine could slow down time.
The chef uncorked the chilled champagne and handed Sam a flute. “What does it do for you?” Sam asked quietly, taking a sip.
Tiffany drank deeply from her own glass before answering. “It’s hard to put into words. I feel connected. I feel close to you, in complete control, focused. Probably a lot of the same feelings you were feeling as I did it. There is a level of trust…” She shrugged taking another sip. “It’s a heady rush for me as well,” she finished quietly.
“Let’s talk about trust,” Sam said softly. “You know how much I trust you, how much do you trust me?”
Tiffany arched an eyebrow. “You saying you want to cut me?” she asked, curious.
Sam shook her head and looked pointedly at the black wrist restraints lying on the bed.
“I see.” The chef said quietly. She was silent for several long moments and then leaned over to pick up the restraints. Without a word she handed them to Sam and held out her wrists.
“I promise you won’t regret it.” Sam said softly as she attached the leather cuffs. She made sure they were tight, but didn’t restrict the circulation and helped the chef position herself on the bed. She propped up a couple of pillows as she raised the chef’s arms over her head and attached the clip to the rope, which was tied around the headboard. While she was in the same general position as the prostitute had been earlier, she had to admit that the chef did not have even the slightest air of vulnerability. There was no doubt that Tiffany Schrade was lying, bound to a bed because she wanted to be.
This didn’t bother the food critic. She wasn’t trying to prove anything to herself or her lover. She’d received the surrender she’d asked for already, this was just a bonus. As such she wanted to make the most of the situation for Tiffany as well as herself.
“Comfortable?” She asked softly.
The chef nodded and tested the hold of the rope. She wasn’t going anywhere unless she felt like breaking furniture.
“You shouldn’t be so antsy.” Sam teased gently as she eased off the bed and padded across the room to the door. “Back in a sec’.”
She returned a moment later with a small silver tray of food. Tiffany smiled as the chocolate covered strawberries were set down on the bed.
“I appreciated the tasting plate this afternoon,” Sam said as she held a strawberry for her lover. “You really outdid yourself. You deserved that win,”
Sharp white teeth neatly cleaved the strawberry in half. “I was amazed to win. That usually doesn’t happen unless the Iron Chef blows it.” She shook her head. “I don’t think it was the cooking that did it, but the juggling.”
Sam shook her head emphatically. “Your juggling was not nearly as impressive as the food,” she said, poking Tiffany in the chest for emphasis. “Are you forgetting that your girlfriend is a very highly respected food critic? I’m telling you that everything tonight was right on. Okay, knife juggling is sexy as hell, but if your food wasn’t kick-ass you know you wouldn’t have won.”
Tiffany grinned. “Pass me another strawberry and I won’t argue with you.”
“You’re in no position to tell me to do anything Ms. Schrade,” Sam replied rolling her eyes. She noticed a bit of chocolate at the corner of the chef’s mouth and grinned. “Here, let me help you with that.”
She leaned in close and gently licked the speck of chocolate from the chef’s lips. Tiffany leaned in for a kiss but the food critic pulled away.
“Not so fast, hon,” she said with a smile. “It’s only 11:17.” She picked up the champagne flute and held it so the dark haired woman could take a sip. Then gracefully moving off the bed she walked to the bedroom closet. After pulling out Tiffany’s hard sided suitcase, she used it as a step stool to reach the top closet shelf. Shoving one of Cass’ make-up cases to the side, she withdrew a rectangular box. She headed back to the bed stopping once more at the prostitute’s black leather duffle and extracted two more items. A blindfold and a bottle of massage oil.
“What’s in the box?” the chef asked curiously, looking at the elegantly stitched satin container.
“A present for you,” Sam replied taking a seat next to Tiffany on the bed once more.
The chef tugged at the restraints. “I might have a problem opening it.”
Sam smiled. “Then I’ll just have to open it for you,” she said. The box was red satin with delicate embroidery. A little over a foot long, about five inches across and probably four inches deep. It had a delicate gold clasp that fastened the lid shut. “Care to take a guess?” she asked.
Tiffany smirked. “I’d say a pearl necklace, but Cass is the only one of us who wears those.”
“Ewww,” Sam replied in spite of herself at the double entendre. “If you’re going to be a smart-ass I can put it away,” she said matching Tiffany’s dry tone. “It’s not like I don’t know what’s in the box after all.” She sat the box down next to her on the bed.
“No, no, no,” the chef said quickly. She gently nudged Sam with her leg. “I want to see it.”
“Pretty please?” Sam asked with an arch of her eyebrow. The smirk faded from the chef’s mouth as she looked at Sam. “You might as well get used to begging,” Sam added cheerfully. “You may be doing more of it.”
“Awww come on Sam,” Tiffany tried, her voice a low husk. “You know you want to show me.”
The food critic picked up another of the plump strawberries and bit into it forcefully. A small trail of juice squirted out and headed down the blonde’s chin. Unconsciously the chef licked her lips and swallowed. “Lets see, I’m insatiably hungry and I’ve got a whole plate of strawberries to eat and you’re insatiably curious and have a gift sitting six inches from you,” Sam said conversationally doing her best to imitate Tiffany’s frank tone to Cass from earlier. “Who’s going to hold out longer?”
Tiffany took a deep breath. “Against your appetite?” The chef shrugged. “You win. Please, Sam?”
“That’s more like it,” Sam replied happily, gently holding out another strawberry for the chef.” She bit down, less carefully this time so juice did indeed run down her chin. Without hesitation the food critic leaned in gently licking the juice away. Tiffany was beginning to catch on. After providing her with another sip from the champagne flute, Sam set the glass down and picked up the red satin box once more. She held it close so the chef could see. The stitching was beautiful. It depicted a cypress tree on a mountain overlooking an embroidered ocean. Sam flipped the latch and slowly opened the box.
“Do you like it?” the food critic asked watching carefully as Tiffany gazed at the contents of the box.
“It’s gorgeous, Sam,” the chef replied. “Although I’m not sure it’s my size.”
Sam chuckled. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”
Tiffany looked from Sam back to the phallus in the cushioned box once more. It was made of clear blown glass, intricate designs of blue and green in glasswork threading through the shaft coming to a stylized but softly pronounced head. The base had a glass loop with a hole in the center that could be used as a handle. Tiffany decided that diminutive was not a word that could be used to describe the glass sculpture in any way.
Sam closed the box with a soft snap. “For later,” she said.
There was an unconscious tug at the restraints and the food critic smiled. She picked up the blindfold and looked pointedly at the chef.
With a wary glance at the box by Sam’s side, Tiffany nodded once. With ease her lover leaned over and tied the black silk blindfold around the brunette’s eyes. She settled herself back on the bed and it was Tiffany’s turn to wait for what would happen next.
For long moments there was no movement or sound and then she smelled the sweet fragrance of strawberry mixed with chocolate move close. Another strawberry was offered. There was something different about eating with one’s eyes closed. The fragrance took center stage a moment before taste confirmed the sensation. In a moment bubbles tickled her nose and the champagne was offered once more.
Then Tiffany felt Sam’s weight shift off the bed. All was quiet for a moment and then a gentle finger lightly touched her lip. Tiffany opened her mouth and the soft taste of orange blossom honey filled her senses. Not only that but the delivery vehicle was a finger she knew all too well. She sucked firmly on the digit, licking every bit of honey clean. Unable to stop herself, her heart beat faster and the chef knew it was showing.
Another digit was offered, this one coated in a honey of another sort. Not waiting for prompting, Tiffany took the finger in her mouth and sucked voraciously. She could feel Sam lean close. “It’s only 11:27,” she whispered. Tiffany groaned in frustration. This was going to be one long fucking night.
“Settle down sweetheart,” Sam soothed moving off the bed once more. “You’ve got all the time in the world to enjoy overdrive. Why don’t you enjoy some coasting first?”
As she spoke Tiffany could hear her flip the top of the bottle of massage oil and then could smell the fragrant scent of eucalyptus and spearmint, her favorite brand from Bath & Bodyworks. Sam had thought of everything. The chef could her the sound of hands rubbing together and then warm hands were at her left foot. Tiffany sighed. A long night might not be bad after all.
The food critic took her time, slowly and thoroughly massaging up one leg before beginning on the next; hands strong from rock climbing pushed into muscles that were only too happy to give way.
As she moved her arms, Sam felt the occasional twinges of pain, her back clearly protesting any movement at all after the night it had endured. The twinges only served to remind her of how she felt, what she’d done and where she was headed. It was indeed a good kind of pain.
When she’d finished massaging the chef’s legs, she continued up the torso, casually avoiding the juncture at the prone woman’s legs. There would be plenty of time for that later, she told herself firmly. She concentrated on what she was doing, enjoying the feel of pliant skin giving way to her touch. She enjoyed looking at Tiffany’s muscular body. Her dark hair was set off nicely by tanned skin and the shiny glints of steel from the hoops pierced through her nipples. Moving up the torso she massaged Tiffany’s breasts, not overtly sexually, but not all that innocently either. She wanted her captive to cool off a little, but not lose her lustful edge completely. By the time she massaged past Tiffany’s shoulders, neck and arms she could really feel the other woman relax.
This is what Sam wanted; Tiffany really letting go, although she might not know it as such, and just let her take the chef wherever she wanted to go.
Leaning close, Sam whispered, “turn over lover.” And without the slightest hesitation Tiffany complied. Sam glanced at the clock, she was right on time and continued her massage paying careful attention to each muscle group as if she had all the time in the world. There were scratches on her back from the prostitute’s nails, as well as on her thighs and arms. She considered how very similar those markings were to the ones she now wore on her own back- not as deep, not as deliberate, perhaps more easily forgotten.
With a gentle nudge she instructed Tiffany to roll back again. Even though the blindfold covered her eyes, Sam could see the relaxed planes of her lovers face. Sam smiled. There was something so incredibly beautiful about seeing the woman you loved at peace with the world. It wasn’t an expression Tiffany wore often and Sam felt grateful each and every time she saw it.
Now her touches shifted. No longer probing pliant muscles, the touch became feather light. Not quite teasing, just enjoying and exploring. She stroked the chef’s legs, traced the firm muscles of her abdomen and up again to her breasts. She lightly touched one of the silver rings and very slowly lifted the captive bead with a fingertip, just barely moving it around.
The chef sighed with pleasure, subtly offering up more of her body for the food critic to touch. Sam gently released the ring and lightly touched the other. Another audible gasp was heard and she was happy Tiffany couldn’t see the silly grin that spread across her face. This was indeed fun.
Long moments more were spent touching the chef’s arms. Sam caressed her shoulders, forearms fingers, even threading her hands through her lover’s long hair and giving a gentle tug. She finally pulled away and made the chef wait for the next onslaught.
Now lips, teeth and tongue were replacing light finger touches. Starting at her ankle and delicately licking the ball of Tiffany’s right foot, the chef groaned when Sam began to suck on her big toe. The onslaught continued first the foot, leg and then up the side of the prone woman’s torso.
“That is so nice,” Tiffany purred after Sam spent long moments sucking on her right nipple, playing with the ring in her mouth then blowing gently across the thoroughly wet surface.
“You like being teased?” Sam challenged, teasingly.
“Is that what you’re doing?” The chef asked. “Then yes, I absolutely love it.”
Sam glanced at the clock, it was 12:23. She switched positions, this time moving the onslaught down the left side of the chef’s body. The sucking started at the fingers; holding the restrained wrists she sucked each digit luxuriously. As she moved down Tiffany’s left arm she paid careful attention to the inside of her elbow and under her arm. Her efforts were rewarded by the dulcet tones of labored breathing.
“God, keep going,” Tiffany gasped.
The food critic had no intention of stopping and continued down the chef’s body finishing as she had begun with the ankle and big toe of the other foot. Sam looked at the clock once more; it was 12:31. She backed away to give Tiffany a chance to wonder what would come next. Gently she pushed at the prone woman’s thighs who happily moved them apart.
The touch that came was not what Tiffany was expecting. She had assumed a finger, or tongue or perhaps even the glass dildo. No this was soft, pliant, warm then her senses put together the sensations and she realized that Sam was touching her with her breast. The stroking felt fantastic and the last thing in the world she wanted was for it to stop. Unfortunately it did.
“Ugh…don’t stop,” she panted.
“Don’t stop what?” Sam asked sweetly.
“Don’t stop what you’re doing to my dripping wet, frantically turned on pussy,” the chef clarified.
Sam chuckled. Adorable as that was, that wasn’t what she was looking for.
She moved up the chef’s body, settling her weight across a torso that was beginning to sheen with sweat.
“I’m looking for a word, lover,” she whispered in Tiffany’s ear.
“Please,” Tiffany whispered, and then she was offered the wet nipple. Tiffany, ecstatic for the chance to touch Sam’s body began to lick and suck in earnest. All too quickly the breast was pulled away and once again she had to wait.
12:34, now Tiffany felt the touch she’d been longing for. “Yes…Sam…” she panted as the familiar feel of soft hair on the inside of her thighs was followed by the food critic’s experienced face at her center. “Please, more!” she demanded as the blond woman took her time, exploring the drenched wetness painfully slowly.
The chef felt as though she were on a roller coaster. The massage had been indulgently relaxing, yet began that climb to where she wanted to be. Sam’s next onslaught had certainly been full of twists and turns, even throwing her for a loop or two. Her heart was racing; her body pulsing and she craved nothing more than that final release. The crest of the final hill that sent you hurtling down into wild abandon. She felt the falling alright, but it was like the first drop in Goliath, it was so long by the time you screamed your lungs out getting to the bottom, you had to take another breath and continue screaming before you actually arrived.
“Please Sam,” she openly begged, not caring about anything else anymore. “Make me come now!”
Sam didn’t answer her; she only slowed down.
“No, no,” Tiffany panted, sounding frantic.
“Shhhh,” Sam soothed. “You’re going to be fine.”
12:38 Tiffany heard the box open and close and wanted her lover to get back immediately to what she had been doing. Sam did not disappoint, picking up with the slow strokes right where she’d left off, occasionally thrusting her tongue deep into her lover before resuming attention to her lover’s clit. The chef’s breathing was audibly strained now. Well past wanting release she was certain she’d go mad any second if she didn’t get it. “Please….please…” That was the only word left her brain had the capacity to form.
Sam shifted her body and Tiffany felt the coldness of the hard glass dildo at her entrance, she was shocked she didn’t come just from it being inserted, but Sam did it very slowly and deliberately. “Please…” she panted again, the word becoming a chant for her.
Back and forth with maddening slowness Sam moved the instrument. There was absolutely no friction as turned on as the chef was. She began to build up a bit more speed and Tiffany would beg, then she would slow just enough to keep her from the climax she desperately craved.
12:43 Sam was watching the clock out of the corner of her eye, hoping that she had timed everything correctly. Tiffany was thrashing at the restraints at this point; the bed creaking in distress. Fast and slow, hard and soft Samantha Steele played with her captive. She used her thumb to occasionally rub the chef’s clit once or twice and then made her wait. When the clock read 12:46 she replaced her thumb with her mouth and used her tongue instead.
12:47 “Yes…” Tiffany began to cry out knowing that release would not be denied her this final time. She felt the very hard fullness inside of her clenching with strong muscles to not let it escape again. “Please…yes…please…yes…” The thrusts were met with pants as Sam began to suck on the chef’s clit. As the clock changed one final time Tiffany Schrade let out a cry of rapture that was completely new to her and indeed, her head was swimming with colors she’d never seen before.
Tiffany felt like she’d never stop coming. Spasm after spasm surged through her. Her body shaking, her mind near utter meltdown, she had never felt exactly this way before in her life.
With one final move on the chessboard of love: “Check” Sam thought to herself. Samantha Steele had a gift for reading people. She knew Tiffany wasn’t expecting anything this profound. She also suspected that had Cassandra Wilson not been in the bathroom mere feet away, the chef might have actually broken down sobbing.
Sam had wanted to step into Tiffany’s world of power and control and she never did anything half-assed. She knew that the resonances from Tiffany’s annoyance at being left at the studio, through her tryst with Cass, through the cutting would have left her senses already near overload. She’d used the massage to distract her somewhat and then skillfully began to push that envelope of overload as far as she could. She realized that the entire night had been for this, to truly bend Tiffany Schrade to her will.
Sam stretched out next to her lover and quickly undid the restraints. She kissed and caressed trembling hands feeling the warmth of strong familiar arms circle around her. She removed the blindfold expecting to see eyes shining with emotion and she was stunned.
She thought three words “Check and mate.”
Tiffany Schrade’s eyes were shining with an emotion but it was raw, white-hot passion. This was not a woman who wanted to be held and comforted after her release. Sam had started a fire, proceeded to pour gasoline on it and then tossed in a propane tank for good measure. It was the chef’s turn to explode.
“Sit on my face, now!” She demanded.
It wasn’t what Sam was expecting, but she wasn’t about to argue. Her senses had gone to such a profound place during the cutting that she wondered if an orgasm was indeed what she wanted right now. She no more than settled herself over her lover’s mouth than she realized it was indeed exactly what she wanted.
Tiffany wasted no time in enjoying Sam’s freshly shaved smoothness. “Oh Jesus,” Sam exclaimed, wasting no time in enjoying that either. She could feel how inhumanly wet she was the second Tiffany touched her. Looking down she could see the wet sheen already covering the lower half of Tiffany’s face. It was no surprise she realized; she’d watched two hot women fuck, and then dominated and fucked each hot woman herself. She did indeed have a great deal to be turned on about. Even just looking down, watching blue eyes look up at her and seeing hints of pink as her tongue flicked this way and that; loving her, she was turned on indeed.
“Having fun kids?” Cass called as she came out of the bathroom. “Oh I see,” she said. “Am I interrupting anything?” She asked as she moved to the head of the bed to get a good look at Sam and what Tiffany was doing to her. To Sam’s surprise it was Tiffany who answered.
“No,” she panted between mouthfuls, “Get the Nexus for me and the harness for yourself.”
Cass chuckled delightedly, “Goody,” she said. She rummaged through her bag and returned with the unusual double-ended dildo. Made of marbled green and white firm silicone it was almost shaped like an “L”. The smaller portion Cass deftly inserted into Tiffany and used some of the woman’s copious wetness to lubricate the larger shaft. It was one way to wear a dildo without a harness, absolutely nothing coming between the lovers.
Sam was already close to climaxing as it was with both hands on the headboard, she rode Tiffany’s face up and down finally gasping with release. “Fuck yes,” she panted, riding out each internal contraction.
“Move down,” Tiffany demanded, sounding just as insistent this time. Sam was a little confused; she thought she was done. “Now,” the chef demanded with a not so gentle shove at her hips.
Sam moved, not quite sure what was going on in Tiffany’s head. Slowly she eased herself over the slick dildo and felt awash with arousal once more. “Oh god,” she panted, feeling deliciously full. Only now did Tiffany smile.
“Oh yes,” she purred, her blue eyes shining happily. “You’re done getting fucked, when we are done fucking you.” Sam tried to rise up on the dildo to push down once again, but strong hands and arms held her hips exactly where they were.
“No, no,” Tiffany soothed sweetly. “You made me wait lover, now it’s your turn. Tell me exactly how you feel.”
Sam was having a hard time concentrating. Chemicals in her brain were demanding one thing and thinking or speaking wasn’t it. “I feel full,” she panted. “So deliciously full.”
“Two strokes,” Tiffany said allowing Sam to comply and then stopped her after the second one. “And now how do you feel,”
This was frustrating. “I feel so wet Tiff,” she moaned. “I need you to stop talking and start fucking me right now.”
“Amen to that,” Cass commented from the foot of the bed.
“Oh no,” Tiffany replied, a warm teasing smile on her face. “You’re always into talking. About my feelings, Cass’ feelings…” she released her hold and let Sam ride the dildo a couple more times. Sam heard Cass move onto the bed behind her and wasn’t sure what the prostitute was up to. “Now we’re going to talk about your feelings.”
“I just want you to fuck me Tiffany,” Sam pleaded. “Please let me come, I can’t think…”
“It’s not about thinking sweetie,” Cass whispered soothingly by her left ear, “It’s about feeling.”
Sam’s eyes went wide when she felt the prostitutes lubricated hand at her ass. Only now did she realize what was going on and she was terrified, but too turned on to do anything about it. “Oh god…” she gasped. “I don’t think I could take…”
“Relax lover,” Cass whispered once more. “We’ll take care of you.”
With a gentle shove Cassandra urged Sam forward. Sam leaned towards Tiffany allowing for better access to her ass. Now very close to the blue eyes shining back at her, she was startled by what she saw. There was profound love in those eyes and Sam was sure she’d drown in that blue. No longer did she have hands restraining her, she pumped up and down a couple of times watching that as she did so Tiffany gasped in pleasure. She felt Cass gently probing her asshole with a finger, taking her time to get her ready. Only then did she realize that Tiffany wasn’t fucking her, it was a completely mutual experience. Then she felt Tiffany’s hips thrust up and the food critic gasped with delight.
“Yes, Tiffany,” she pleaded. “Please fuck me.”
“I will do exactly that,” the chef reassured her.
“Hold on Sam,” Cass murmured as the prostitute’s warm body moved in at her backside. Sam’s eyes widened at the sensation of an additional, thankfully smaller, dildo pushing into her.
“Ohhhhhh,” Sam sobbed, emotion starting to overtake her. Surrounded by warmth, surrounded by skin, filled to bursting there was not a single additional sensation she could possibly tolerate.
“Tell me,” Tiffany urged, thrusting steadily. The chef’s voice cracked as the dildo moved inside of her as well. Once again she too was nearing that precipice.
“I am so full,” Sam panted. “I have never felt like this.”
Cass was doing what she did best. She wrapped her lithe arms around Sam’s torso and held the smaller woman. She timed her thrusts in connection with Tiffany’s. Sometimes both moving in simultaneously, other times alternating.
Sam’s body was starting to tremble. Tiffany wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and brought trembling lips in for a tender kiss even as her own hips shook with impending release. “I love this,” Sam panted. “God I love this,” she panted again a giant wave cresting. “I love you,” she gasped, “I love both of you.”
The wave of her climax hit and Sam wasn’t sure if she’d blacked out for a moment. She thought she heard Tiffany cry out in release but couldn’t be sure. All she knew was what she felt and that was simply more than she could contain. One sob followed another, and then another. Sex had never made her cry before, but she simply had no other release for the tide of emotion that overwhelmed her.
“Shhh…” Tiffany soothed, holding her gently.
“It’s alright,” Cass whispered, settling her weight on Sam’s back after discarding the dildos. The prostitute ran her hands through Sam’s slick hair as Tiffany gently touched her face.
“I love you too,” Tiffany whispered.
“As do I,” Cass added, her voice a tender whisper as well.
The three of them rested for a few moments when Cass eased her comforting weight off of Sam’s back. Sam slid off of Tiffany to the side, surprised that the room was dark, only a faint light illuminating anything.
“The candles…?” The food critic murmured, confused.
“Shhhh,” Cass reassured her. “I blew them out; you Virgos, I swear.”
Sam turned her head to thank the blond and was horrified by what she saw. The entire front of Cassandra’s body from her breasts to her pelvic region was smudged with blood. The prostitute shook her head. “It’s alright Sam, you bled a little, I don’t mind.”
“Do you feel okay?” Tiffany asked, a little worried at the amount of blood on the prostitute’s front as well.
Sam sighed, “I can honestly say I’ve never had a more perfect moment than this one, right now.”
Tiffany grinned. “Not bad for our first trip to Japan,” she said.
“Maybe we should check out the hot-springs before we go home?” Cass asked sleepily; drawing the covers up around them and settling in behind Sam for sleep.
“I will go anywhere the two of you take me,” Sam said as she drifted to sleep. “Anywhere, anytime, forever.” That was answered by two sets of arms, squeezing her lovingly.
*****
“We are beginning our final approach into Los Angeles International Airport,” the pilot’s voice crackled through the speakers. “Local temperature is sixty two degrees, light breezes off the ocean. Local time is 9:23 pm.”
Sam smiled in spite of herself. The trip had been fantastic but there was something special about coming home. She was sad she couldn’t see the mountains but was instead treated to a light show that even looked magnificent from outer space. Her back still ached, but the days added to the trip to enjoy the local hot springs had indeed been a good idea.
“You feel alright?” Tiffany asked from her place by the window.
Sam chuckled. “Since when do you care so much about feelings?”
“She cares if they belong to you,” Cass butted in. “Stop nagging Tiff- her back is healing perfectly. God you can be such a mother hen sometimes.”
“Maybe I wasn’t talking about her physical feelings?” Tiffany shot back, defensive. Both Cass and Sam looked at her incredulously. Tiffany shrugged. “It could happen.”
Cass shook her head. “We’re on a plane approaching LAX and now is when you choose to talk to her about this?”
“Talk about what?” Sam asked.
“Well,” Tiffany shrugged again trying to get comfortable in her seat and abjectly failing. “We should figure this out. Talk and stuff….we need to know which house to go to and…”
“Talk about what?” Sam repeated beginning to lose her patience.
“You are the world’s worst girlfriend and I don’t know why Samantha puts up with you,” Cass shot back, clearly irritated.
“If the two of you don’t stop talking to each other and talk to me, I’m going to spank you both!” Sam shouted, quite a bit louder than she intended.
“Oh my,” they heard from a woman sitting behind Tiffany gasp.
Tiffany shifted again in her seat. She looked out the window a moment and then shifted again. “I’ve been thinking…”
“That’s a stretch…” Cass murmured, noticing that near by passengers were beginning to lean towards them to better hear their conversation.
Tiffany looked at Sam, then Cass then back to Sam. “Well Cass and I talked and…although this is totally my decision and it isn’t about her and…” Tiffany began to get lost.
Sam put the book she’d been reading down with a thump. “Spit it out Tiff.”
“I want to know if you’d like to move in with us.”
Sam’s jaw fell open, her book fell on the floor and a man across the aisle dropped his drink. “Sell my house?” Sam asked a little confused.
“No dear,” Cass reassured her, leaning down to pick up the book. “Keep it, you can rent it out if you’d like and when you come to your senses about Tiffany you and I can live there without her.”
“Are you hearing this?” The man sitting next to the man with the spilled drink asked his companion.
“This is so cool,” the spilled-drink man replied.
Tiffany ignored the comments focusing her attention on Samantha. “The house is big enough. Cass has even agreed to move her clothes and shit out to the guest house so you can have her closets.”
Without thinking the Virgo in Sam spoke up much to the food critic’s dismay. “I’ve got a quarter of the clothes as Cassandra, I’d need, like, one closet.”
“Perfect,” Cass cut in. “You can have the main walk in, I’ll keep the others. This is working out much better than I expected. Cass took a sip of her wine and smiled warmly at the two men across the isle staring at her.
Sam turned back to Tiffany. “You do realize that what you’re suggesting here is some sort of relationship that many people might consider…rather…permanent.”
Tiffany was beginning to blush. “I know.”
“You go girl!” Spilled Drink Man’s companion said.
Sam turned to Cass, “Why did you agree to this? Don’t tell me there isn’t something in this for you?”
Cass beamed. “Well you of course, and Tiffany said I could get a puppy if I let you move in.”
Another man seated behind Cass snickered. The prostitute undid her seatbelt and rose up in her seat turning around to face him. “What’s wrong with puppies?” she demanded. “I’ve always wanted one or three. You don’t think I should have them?!”
“Oh no,” the man said the color draining from his face. “You should totally get some puppies.” He quickly signaled the flight attendant and asked for another drink.
Cass settled back into her seat, satisfied “See this guy even agrees with me.”
“I move in and we adopt puppies,” Sam repeated just making sure she was on the same page. Both women nodded. “Let me get this straight; you’re offering me evenings of cocoa, bellyrubs, walks on the beach…and puppies.”
Tiffany looked a little bashful. “Well in addition to the mind blowing sex, that is.”
“It’s a little ironic, isn’t it?” Cass said.
Sam chuckled, feeling her eyes well up. “Who can argue with that.”
“Excellent!” Cass and Spilled Drink Man said in unison. Cass glared at him and he returned his attention to his companion. “When we get home I’d like to go for a drive in my new car,” Cass continued, holding out her hand to Tiffany.
“Oh give me a break,” Tiffany groused. Cass gestured for her to hurry up and Tiffany fished a set of car keys from her pocket. After taking the keys off the key ring she handed them to the prostitute.
“I can’t have the key ring?” Cass asked, annoyed.
“No, Sam gave that to me,” Tiffany shot back. “Remember, no paint job- you promised.”
Cass shrugged. “Fine, fine whatever. I’ll look just as sexy in black.”
The food critic was puzzled. “You’re giving Cass your Porsche?” The chef nodded.
“Don’t look so sad,” Cass replied. “You get to drive my Benz.”
Sam snickered. “The ‘hot-pink’ Mercedes?”
Cass nodded, “It’s the only one I’ve got.”
“Why on earth did you give Cass your car?” Sam asked.
Cassandra was beaming. “Remember the other night when you had me tied up to the bed with the gag in my mouth? And you wanted to watch our dear friend Tiffany have her way with me?”
There was no denying that the undivided attention of the first four rows of the airplane was solidly on them. Sam swallowed feeling her cheeks redden.
“Did you see Tiff lean over and whisper in my ear?” Cass continued.
“That’s enough Cass,” Tiffany warned.
The prostitute ignored her, “She offered me her Porsche if I wouldn’t fuck up her chances with you.”
“Awwww,” the spilled drink man and his partner cooed.
It was Sam’s turn to frown at the spilled drink couple. She then turned to her brunette lover stunned. “You bribed Cass with your Porsche so you wouldn’t let me down?”
The chef shrugged. “I still own it,” she muttered.
“Only because I don’t want to pay the insurance. That car is mine!” Cass replied firmly.
Tiffany took Sam’s hand “You’re worth a lot more than a Porsche.”
“I think I’m going to cry,” spilled-drink man said and his partner shushed him as all three women glared in their direction.
Sam took pity on her lover; she was not sure how much more unadulterated sappiness the chef could endure “Are you sure this whole moving in thing isn’t so I’ll let you borrow my BMW.”
Tiffany beamed, squeezing Sam’s hand tighter. “I hadn’t thought of that!”
“Looks like I’m moving in then, doesn’t it.” Sam said, kissing each woman tenderly.
To the trio’s embarrassment they were soundly applauded by the first four rows of the airplane and the flight attendants brought them more champagne.
Sam took hold of each lover’s hands and grinned from ear to ear. “Don’t you just love LA?,” she said.
*****
Epilogue: As the theatre lights come up and the credits roll we can hear Stevie Nicks singing Love is a Hard Game to Play, Bombay Sapphires, Love Is and Troluble in Shangra-La. I mention this because had it not been for these four songs, listened to over and over and over, I’m not sure how I would have finished this story. You, gentle reader, might find this choice of soundtrackironic because in the wonderful world of fan-fiction we can drift off to sleep knowing that our three uniquely deviant heroines will indeed get their happily ever after. They will spend their time traveling the world and having many splendid adventures.
Samantha Steele will eventually become a big muckity muck at Martha Stewart Living Omnemedia. Given her experiences with Cass and Tiffany, Sam had no problems working with Martha at all. She incorporated more leather and rubber into her wardrobe and had Martha eating out of her hand (figuratively of course). In fact more than once Cassandra Wilson had been hired as a consultant. Martha was impressed by her frankness as well as fashion sense. Samantha also went on to write several books about food and even adopted pseudonym for her tome on food in the bedroom; she called it Taste Buds & Bondage Surprisingly, Oprah did not choose it for her book club but several studios wanted to option the movie rights.
Besides the odd job for Martha Stewart, Cass continued her profession as an unbelievably high priced call girl although she was in semi-retirement. She also established an animal shelter in the Hollywood Hills and funded a charity that focused on getting prostitutes off the streets and into classrooms. She refused to admit that Sam was having any sort of redemptive effect on her whatsoever. She and another high priced madam who had served time in prison, went into business opening a first class bordello in Nevada; Wilson-Fleiss Entertainment Inc.
For Tiffany’s part, she devoted herself to the woman she loved and her work in that order. Sam was never far from her thoughts, regardless of what she was doing. They experimented together in the kitchen as much as they did in the bedroom. She opened her own restaurant, Trio in LA and one in Vegas so she’d have something to do when she wasn’t gambling or seeing strip shows. The logo for both restaurants consisted of a rectangular set of vertical and horizontal lines, scars of which she sported on her back between her shoulders. She accepted the unconventional life fate had handed her and woke up every morning amazed at how happy and content she was. In the final analysis, what more can one ask for?
The End
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