Marital Aid Ch. 01

She wasn't OK. It hadn't been good. And that meant there was no reason at all for Clea to hold back.

"Well," Clea began, "I was thinking, last night. And I have something that I think might help you a little."

Isabella's head tilted dubiously.

"Not with the, uh, issues," Clea added hastily. "Just with how it all feels. It's something for self-care."

"Oh!" Isabella brightened immediately. "Clea, that's so thoughtful."

Clea had to look away for a moment. "Don't mention it."

"So?" Isabella asked eagerly. "What is it? Don't keep me in suspense!"

Clea swallowed anxiously. This was it.

"This might sound a little weird," she said, "but I have these... experimental music videos. They're meant to help you relax. Think of it like... like meditation. Making them is kind of a hobby of mine, actually. I know it's a little silly, but some people have said they're really helpful. So, I made one for you."

She blushed as she said that. Even the half-truth was embarrassing. Isabella, though, looked overjoyed.

"You did?" she exclaimed. "Oh my god, Clea! Thank you, that's so thoughtful."

Clea blushed again. "I'm glad you think so."

"Of course I do," Isabella replied. "I've never really tried meditation before, but you're certainly right to think that I could use something to help me relax a little. I'd love to give it a try."

"Great!" Clea's relief was immeasurable, and she found herself grinning from ear to ear. She whipped out her phone. "I'll send you the video right away. You can just listen to it whenever you have a quiet moment. Just... make sure to grab some headphones. And, uh, make sure you won't be disturbed."

"Got it!" To Clea's great surprise, Isabella pulled her into a brief but warm hug. "Clea, you deserve a raise. I can't tell you how much this means to me. Things have been so hard lately. It's truly..."

"Hey." Clea squeezed Isabella tight as her boss trailed off. "I know. But, Isabella, I can promise you that things are going to get much, much better for you very soon. I can just feel it."

Once the two of them pulled apart, Isabella's eyes were glistening.

"Thank you," she said. "The way you said that almost makes me believe it."

Clea and Isabella shared a laugh before Isabella went to sit back down at her desk. Clea took that as her cue.

"Let me know if you need anything," she said, retreating out of her boss's office. "I've got your first call for the day lined up in about twenty minutes."

With that, each of them returned to the humdrum of a normal workday - but the whole time, Clea was burning with anticipation as she thought about what was going to happen once Isabella finally sat down to listen to what Clea had sent her.

***

The sun was getting low in the sky by the time Isabella's thoughts turned back to Clea's gift. It had been a long, busy day of work, with no chance for her to take time out to meditate. But now, the office was quiet. Everyone had gone home - even Clea, who seemed to have been lingering for some reason. Isabella figured she was probably worried about her. Clea was such a sweet girl that way.

Isabella really couldn't blame her for being worried. Not after the way she'd fled to Clea's apartment the day before. Just thinking about it was still incredibly embarrassing. Clea had been very kind about it, but Isabella was sure her secretary didn't genuinely want to spend her weekends dealing with her boss's personal problems.

Hopefully, earlier, when she'd told Clea that things were looking up, she'd sounded convincing enough to put the younger woman at ease.

The truth was... more complicated.

And that, regrettably, was part of why Isabella was staying late at work. It was the perfect excuse to spend a little less time at home.

Isabella sighed to herself. Admitting that, even in her own head, felt humiliating. Where had it all gone so wrong? When she had gotten married, she'd assumed that would be her happy ending. Having kids seemed like the natural next step - they'd even talked about it, briefly, a few times. Now, Robert got mad every time she brought it up. It was like he'd never wanted a family at all.

Another sigh. These thoughts were doing nothing but making Isabella upset again. They certainly weren't helping her to get any work done, and the only thing worse than staying at the office to work overtime was staying at the office to do nothing except cry.

Which was why Isabella's thoughts had turned to that relaxation music video Clea had made for her.

What better time to try it than now?

Isabella took a moment to dim the lights and close the blinds on the windows before sitting back in her office chair and pulling up the video file Clea had sent to her. The first frame looked like nothing but an indistinct mess of colors, and Isabella found herself a little skeptical that a simple music video would be able to offer everything Clea had promised. But, determined to give it a proper try, she took a series of long, deep breaths after putting in her earbuds.

"OK, here goes," she said to herself, and pressed 'play'.

Immediately, the screen in front of her exploded into dizzying patterns of motion that made Isabella gasp. There was such depth, vividness and beauty to the colors. It immediately drew Isabella in and captivated her, making her eyes pull wide open in an instinctive bid to drink in everything that was on the screen of her computer.

It was so overwhelming, she barely even noticed the sound playing through her earbuds.

It was music, but unlike any other Isabella had heard, and she only considered it to be music at all because of the vaguely harmonic quality of all the strange beats and tones playing in her ears. All of them were low and resonant; she felt them through her whole body, and underneath them was something like whispering, perhaps a voice, perhaps not. Whatever it was, Isabella found herself unable to bring it into focus.

Instead, all of her attention was on the screen. The true pattern formed by the colors was starting to unfold. At first, she thought it was a spiral, pulling inward, but she soon realized it was pushing outward instead, kaleidoscopic, like an ever-unfurling flower, revealing more of itself with each passing moment. Every new color that appeared at the center of the screen was a revelation, but then the whole image would turn, revealing more of itself yet again, along dizzying lines of symmetry.

Isabella couldn't look away. Not even when her eyes started to ache from staring. She just slumped back into her seat and started to drool. She had been instantly hypnotized.

The music was getting louder, but Isabella didn't stir, not even when lyrics started to appear inside her head. Not lyrics; mantras. Simple, blunt statements of fact that Isabella couldn't seem to bring herself to question. They came one after another, layering atop one another, hammering themselves into her head until they felt like her own thoughts, no matter how strange and foreign they were.

They were true. She knew that. She just knew.

You are a lesbian, Isabella.

It was a hard thing to accept. Isabella had never once thought of herself as anything other than straight. She was even married to a man. So... how hadn't she noticed it sooner? It seemed so hard to square away, and yet she knew she had to.

You don't like men.

Isabella stirred. That didn't seem right. She liked her husband, didn't she? That was why she'd married him. She loved him... or so she'd thought. But she was a lesbian, so that didn't make sense. And since she was a lesbian, it seemed only natural that she didn't like men. Isabella reflected on how she'd felt about her husband in recent days. It hadn't been positive.

Of course. She was a lesbian, and she didn't like men.

You cannot orgasm with men.

Isabella blushed faintly, but settled. As unfamiliar as that thought was, it seemed to fit. She was a lesbian, and she didn't like men. It made perfect sense that she couldn't orgasm with men.

Her recent experiences with her husband certainly bore that out, too.

You can only orgasm with women.

Each new mantra, each new truth, was getting easier and easier to accept. They intersected and interlinked, mutually reinforcing one another, forming a net wrapped tight around Isabella's mind.

Forming a new self. A new identity.

You are attracted to Clea.

Isabella gasped. Clea? She'd never once looked at her secretary in that light. It would be completely and totally unprofessional of her.

And yet...

Now that the thought had crossed her mind, she couldn't un-think it. Clea was pretty. There was certainly no denying that. She had a lovely figure, and such cute freckles, and her long, gorgeous, red hair was so striking. Anyone would call her attractive.

But Isabella wasn't just anyone. She was a lesbian. She could only cum with women. So, naturally, it meant more to her. It wasn't just about acknowledging Clea's attractiveness. It was about feeling it.

Isabella was definitely attracted to Clea.

You are very attracted to Clea.

The intensity of her newly-discovered attraction more than doubled with the repetition. Suddenly, just thinking about her secretary made Isabella squirm in her chair and sent a thrill-shock of pleasure between her legs. She couldn't believe an attraction this potent had crept up on her, but maybe it wasn't surprising, if her lesbianism had too.

It was all but unbearable. How was she going to handle seeing Clea tomorrow? How was she going to not blush and stammer every time she looked at her? The worst part was that Clea was a lesbian too. That made the temptation so much more real.

You can't resist Clea.

All thoughts of self-control immediately dissolved. Isabella was being washed away by the strength of her new feelings. She couldn't resist Clea. That thought seemed so sinful. She was Clea's boss. A level of self-discipline and restraint was absolutely essential in the workplace, but Isabella was starting to doubt she was capable of it.

What did that say about her? What kind of woman was she, to be so hopelessly, irresistibly infatuated by a girl subordinate to her, a girl so much younger than her? It was a shameful thought, but the shame was swept up in her attraction and arousal.

A picture of the new Isabella was starting to emerge. She was a lesbian, she was sexually unsatisfied with her husband, and she was desperately obsessed with her own secretary, Clea Samaras.

The longer she stared at the hypnotic images blaring on her screen, the stronger and stronger Isabella's new sense of identity became. And there was nothing she could do about it. With her eyes wide, all she could do was sit back, stare, and drool, as the mantra began to repeat over, and over, and over again.

You are a lesbian.

You don't like men.

You cannot orgasm with men.

You can only orgasm with women.

You are attracted to Clea.

You can't resist Clea.

You are a lesbian...