Writer's Fantasy Ch. 05

5

It was Thursday, August 1st. Summer turned into a scorcher, from hot to hotter, and boy, could I relate to that one. We'd had four "sessions". Now it was a new month and part of me felt like the experience should be over. But most of me felt like it should never end, like I never wanted it to end.

And goodness, if we stopped, what would I write about? For my column for the magazine I had pretty much just been telling what happened with Marissa and David verbatim. I was couching the stories in a sort of 'yes, this could be fantasy but maybe it all happened' tone. As in, you can believe it or not, but this is actually what's happening; to this anonymous author, to me. To M.J. Roberts, writer of realism -- an erotic journey, and now a writer's fantasy, it's just one of life's bizarre twists that had turned boring into fanfare extraordinaire.

The magazine had gotten so many letters and emails and magazines saying that they liked it that they gave me a raise.

And strict instructions to keep the stories coming.

With the ultra-reality tone forefront, as they said. Yeah, more, much more just like that, they said.

Holy fuck.

And me, usually creative but hopelessly dumb as to what I could write for my author's next possible adventure without help.

Help from you know who and you know who.

Oh, woe is me. Life is so hard.

Damn shame.

And today is Thursday. Which means I have to get through the whole damn workday, dragging on in super slow motion like an old fashioned record set on the wrong speed until it's time to go to Marissa's house again.

And David.

Oh yes, yes, fuck yeah. David.

Oh, too, delicious to be true but is. David.

Oh God I see you and I feel like my heart is going to swell and burst but I would never tell you that, David. Because, you know, he's technically the consultant, and I only see him two damn times a week, in these arranged "sessions". The fuck sessions you might call them. Hardly the place to pronounce your undying love.

But oh yeah.

Oooooohhhhh yeeeaaaaah. It's Thursday.

I was going to have to try to enjoy the wait.

I was standing in front of my closet trying to decide what to wear. I chose my very favorite sundress. A bright yellow dress with little cap sleeves and small blue and orange and purple flowers all over it. The grass may be burning to a crisp in late summer time but I looked like fresh spring.

Dressing like spring was a really good idea. It certainly wasn't a bad idea at all to dress like an Ivory girl. Because after being wholesome all these years and then all of a sudden plummeting into the fast, decadent, descent of corruption into the obscenely wholly dirty hell of the wicked, to dress with a little calm sunshine and bright springtime in my step would remind me of who I really am.

Or was.

I finished getting dressed, put on light make-up, slipped into sandals with at least a little bit higher heel that the flat ones I usually wore, in honor of it being Thursday, and went off to my job copywriting with a happy heart.

My copywriting had freakin' bloomed in the last two weeks. Like some strange odd occurrence, (I couldn't possibly imagine what), had opened a floodgate of creativity and speed and accuracy that made my day job a breeze and my bosses very happy campers.

Not as happy as me though.

I drove to work, knowing that I would be doing the day on autopilot.

Speeding toward 5:30. Toward Marissa's house. Toward the "session".

Knowing that despite the slow mo surreal sensation, the day would speed by.

Because it was Thursday.

And we all know what that means.

*

My cell phone rang at 4:30. I looked at the screen. Marissa.

Maybe I should change her ring tone. To Witchy Woman maybe. Or Wicked Games We Play. Or the part of that old Rick James song, Superfreak, the line that says 'she's a very freaky girl...'

I picked up the phone.

"Ah, hello?" I said.

"Hi!" The friendly voice. Just like we hadn't been doing the nasty in every which way but loose for the past two weeks. And I hadn't been documenting it for posterity. And then publishing it where anyone could read it. Just like, oh hey, hi. Not like, hey, it's me, your fucking dominating Mistress who decides what you will do and how you'll do it and to whom when I fuck your brains out.

Yeah. Right. Oooookay.

"Hi," I said back in the same tone.

"Knock off early," she said. "So you get here a little early."

"Marissa, I work a nine-to-five job; I can't just leave early."

"You mean you won't just leave early. It's already 4:30. You've been working faster and better right? Got all your work done already, ahead of time, right?"

This is what happens when you are best friends with someone for over ten years. They get to know you.

"Ah, y...yeah," I said.

"So. Come. Here." Voice not so friendly now.

"Right. Okay. I'm coming," I said.

"Right now?" Friendly again.

"Yes," I said firmly. "Right now."

*

She opened the door and the first thing I noticed is she was wearing a black dog collar with spikes on it. The next thing I noticed was her hair was a dark, dark auburn, slicked back tight to her head and tied with some sort of black and gold and silver clamp high on top, with a long, long straight ponytail running down her back and all the way to ass. Straight and thick and looking almost more than anything like the tail of an actual horse. Or more accurately, a whip.

Then I noticed her abundance of black eyeliner, dark burgundy almost black lips, silver earrings that resembled little chains and paddles.

I also blinked convulsively at her dress. The dress had a bustier-like top part which cinched in her small waist even further. The corset was black leather and had multiple buckles on the sides and a zipper going all the way down the front. The skirt part of the dress was a tiny, short, tight, black leather skirt also with the front zipper.

Fuck.

"Come in," she drawled.

Double fuck.

"Aaaaauuummmahhh," I said with a coughing choking sound. I walked in.

"Yeah, um," I said gesturing head to toe to her outfit. Same black thigh high, high heeled, fuck, fuck, fuck me, laced-up boots. Strip of black fish net stockings sticking out between the boot tops and her skirt.

"Um," I tried again.

One word came to my mind. Gob-smacked. And then flabbergasted. And then tongue-tied. And then laryngitis because I wondered if it would be a week before I could speak.

"Um," I said again and paused. "Your hair's red."

"All the better to fuck you with," she said in a Little Red Riding hood parody.

I just looked at her.

I knew she wouldn't mess with her beautiful strawberry blonde hair, so this deep, deep auburn must be a temporary rinse, it would wash out. And her shoulder length curls would return to normal after she took the ornament clamp thing and the tail off.

But holy shit she was hot.

"Um," I said.

"The writer has a surprisingly limited vocabulary," she said.

She looked me up and down, taking in my yellow sundress, my unadorned not quite shoulder length brown hair, and reasonable inch and a half heeled sandals.

"Girl," was all she said. Then after a moment she added, "Eventually we're going to break you of this look."

"I look nice," I said.

"Very true," she said. "And perfectly dressed for teaching kindergarten. If we run out of teachers teaching out of one room school houses on the prairie you will be absolutely, perfectly, majorly appropriately set."

Humph. Thanks.

"Come on in," Marissa said although I was already in, "Do you want a drink?"

I looked her up and down. This did not look like it was going to me an easy day.

"Good Baby Bitch, do you want a drink?"

"Hell yeah, or two," she laughed.

She laughed and I followed her into the kitchen, watching her move with that short, tight skirt barely covering her ass, and I had the thought for the hundredth time, who was this woman?

Then I said it out loud, "Who is this woman?"

She laughed.

"And what did you to with my best friend?"

She laughed again. "Margarita?"

"You know it," I said.

She had everything out and ready and blended my drink up in a second. Handed it to me. It was just the way I liked it. Very little alcohol, tons of fresh strawberries, not too much ice, salt on the rim.

"Mmmn," I said sipping the drink. "I don't know who the hell you are but I'm glad my friend who knows what I like is still in there."

She saddled up close to me. "Oh. I know what you like all right."

Gulp.

Add huge swig of margarita here.

"So...Jennnnnn..nnnny," she said.

Ut-oh.

"Where's the list?"

"Hunh?"

"Give. Me. Your. List."

Wha...?

Bam. I got it. Holy crud, she wanted my list of possible sexual fantasies. No fucking way.

"Aaahhh, I don't have it," I said.

"Liar."

"No, really..."

Marissa put her finger across my lips. "I've known you a long time. I can always tell when you're lying. You have a tell."

Well shit.

"So hand it over," Marissa said. "Give me the list."

"Um, you know, I'd really rather not. You see, the thing is, they aren't really necessarily things I'd like to do..."

She glared at me.

"They're more like any possible different thing I could possibly think of that might be a possible topic for writing at a later date, you know? Like, a brainstorming list."

Ding-dong.

I was literally, saved by the bell.

Marissa wagged a finger at me.

"This is not over," she said.

I needed more alcohol. Definitely more alcohol. A lot more alcohol. I took a quick swig, put my drink on the counter, and hurried after Marissa to greet David. By the time she got to the door I was right beside her.

She opened the door.

And there he was.

Huge.

Handsome.

Powerful.

Starved.

Oh boy.

He took one look at Marissa and his eyes bugged out of his head. His eyelids peeled back and his mouth dropped open and he had a look on his face somewhere between someone who had just been in a car accident and was in shock and someone who just won tickets to Disneyland.

"Why thank you David," Marissa said in a voice that was deep and pleased and oozed forbidden pleasure. "Come in."

He walked in and she slammed the door behind him. Locked it. Locking us all in together. She took a step a little closer to me so we were side by side.

David looked from Marissa to me back to Marissa and back to me again.

"Holy shit," was all he said.

"Marissa you look... well fuck, you know how you look," he said. He turned to me. "And you, you look..." and then he just broke into a huge happy smile.

He looked from her to me and then her to me and back again. Blinked. Shook his head. Blinked again.

"It's like...night and day, darkness and light," he said.

"Naughty and nice," I said.

"The librarian and the slut," Marissa said. "Heaven and hell."

"It's such magnificence I hardly know where to start or where to stop. You absolutely slay me. The two of you together. Like this. Heaven and hell alright."

He came over and kissed me. The hello kiss. And then deeper and deeper, hotter and more passionate, one his hand around my back, holding me to him.

"I take it back," he said. "I know exactly where to start."

I smiled up at him.

"Jenny has a list she wants to show you," Marissa said.

Oh shit. Not this again.

"A list?" That was an interested voice from David.

"No, no," I said.

"What type of list?" he asked.

"It's a list of all the writer's fantasies," Marissa said. "Everything that virginal little inexperienced, secretly twisted soon to be slut writer could ever possibly imagine."

"Re-eeeeeeaaaaallyyy," David said. Very interested voice. "Do tell. Let's see it."

"Fuck seeing it." He nibbled my ear. "Read it to me," David said.

"Oh no," I said.

He licked my ear quickly. Nibbled my neck. Went to the other side and bit my ear lobe.

"Read. It. Read it Baby, read it to me," David said.

I laughed. "I don't think so."

"I'm betting she hasn't let it out of her sight since she wrote it," Marissa said. "I'm betting it's in her purse."

Oh FUCK.

She turned around to get my purse which was in the dining room, on the dining room table. I raced around her and ran to get it. Considering she was wearing those fuck holy hell fuck me six inch high heel fuck me boots I could move much faster than she could and I beat her to it.

Yeah sandals.

I snatched up my purse and held it to my chest. I looked from Marissa to David. He held his hands out in a 'hey, I just take orders here' gesture that I didn't believe for one second. He was counting on Marissa to wrestle it out of me. Or command it out of me.

"No freaking way, Marissa. Just not happening. No way."

She strutted the rest of the way to me, swaying her hips, swinging her ass, running a hand down her side.

"Okay, how about this. You're the writer. You look at the list. You pick something you want to write about."

Subtext: And we'll try it. Do it. Run with it a thousand fold.

"Um," I said.

"Just look at the list and decide what we're doing today," Marissa said.

That didn't sound so bad.

After all, I had written 38 things on the list. Yeah, most of them were too heinous and devious and outrageous for me to try, even with my outrageous quotient upped by about, say, one thousand thanks to Marissa, but there must be something on there that was tame enough that I could mention it as a suggestion. Whoa. That then we would do.

Okay. I could do this.

David walked a little closer to us.

"Okay," I said. "But I want to look at the list by myself and not have to worry about you grabbing it from me or either of you looking over my shoulder. You go sit over there."

I pointed to the couch. Obediently they both went over there and sat.

David smiled at Marissa. I recognized that smile. It meant he was going to raz her.

"So I'm guessing you're dressed for church. Maybe you'd like me to spank you first so you can go there all absolved and shiny and new? Maybe I'll be the dom and overpower you in that outfit. Think that's on Jenny's list? No? Maybe not? Or not right now?"

He put his finger on her collar and dragged her part way to him.

"Right after bible study maybe?"

"Jerk," she said, but in a voice that said she really liked it.

"Okay," he said with a laugh and jerked her to him and grabbed the back of her head. Then he kissed her.

"Hi Marissa," he said.

Good. Let them kiss. I'll look at this list. Jeez. I'm such a perv. We can never do any of this stuff. There must be something on this list that's at least in the realm of realistic.

Do it with two men. Well only David's here, so that's out.

Do it on film. Yeah. With my luck that would get back to someone from work and bite me in the ass. So no.

Do it outside and/or in a public place. Yeah, not with Marissa in that outfit. I don't want to be caught fully dressed on Halloween next to Marissa in that outfit.

Get tied up. Oh, now that's something I could get into.

I looked at Marissa.

Um, but maybe today is the wrong day to pick that. She looks scary. Hot as all hell, but scary.

Tie the guy up.

Ding, ding, ding, ding.

I looked at Marissa and David. Him so big and tan and golden and strong and her so, well, her. They had stopped kissing and were staring at me. He was so major power restrained. And now he would be restrained. And she would do it.

Bingo.

"What?" Marissa said. "You found something."

"Uuhhh," I said.

"It's time to kiss and tell Jenny."

"Um," I said. "How should I say this?"

"I could just read it off the list," Marissa said sweetly.

I folded the list up tightly really fast and jammed it in my purse.

They both looked at me.

"Um," I said looking at them. Then I looked at the floor. "It said tie the guy up," I said softly.

"What was that?" Marissa said and I looked up to see her leaning forward with a hand behind her ear. "What was that?"

"Um, tie the guy up," I said a little louder. "Tie David up."

"Still can't hear you, what?"

David got up and put me out of my misery of having to shout it.

He came right up to me and hugged me and put his lips to my ear. "You can do anything you want to me. You know that. I'm here for you."

He didn't sound like a consultant or a hired gun. More like a lover. Or a husband.

I blushed.

"Whatever you want Jenny," he whispered in my ear. "However you want it. Whether you want to write about it or not."

"Alright slave players," Marissa said. "Hold that thought, I'll be right back." And she hustled upstairs.

"Whatever," he kissed my neck, "however," he kissed my ear, "whenever," he whispered dragging his lips against my outer rim of my ear.

I shivered.

"Whatever, however, whenever you want." His voice got even softer and his grip on my waist tighter. "Let me ..." He paused as if he couldn't find words to finish his sentence.

"But this isn't really, I mean, I'm not, I don't..."

"Let me give you a chance to go where you would never go." David nuzzled into my hair. "Let me do for you Jenny. Let me push you toward your wildest fantasies, hell, toward everything you've ever dreamed of Jenny." He kissed my neck and his voice dropped to the softest whisper. A seductive trance-like slip of sound. "Everything you've dreamed of and haven't dreamed of. Just let me give you everything."

Holy moly.

I heard sounds from upstairs.

"Take from me, Baby. Take and take and take. Take everything, I've got it. No matter how shy you are to say it. I can handle it. I can take it. I promise you. Whatever you need, let me know, and I'll go to hell and back to get it for you, I promise you."

Fuck, that should not be so hot. That might be the hottest thing that has happened so far.

"Okay?" he asked.

Laryngitis again. Flabbergasted. Astounded. Blown away.

"I'm completely blown away," I said.

He kissed up my neck. "Good," he said.

Marissa came down. Rattling. She was carrying rope, duct tape, and...chains? Bike chain? What? Cuffs. She was carrying so much stuff I couldn't even tell all she was carrying.

Goodness gracious.

"I'm not sure this was such a good idea," I said.

"This was a great idea," Marissa said.

I looked at David.

"Yeah, maybe not," I said.

"Sure it is," Marissa said. "Your readers will love it. Besides, I'm already dressed for the part."

"Well that's true," I said.

"And besides," she said in a voice that was low and dangerous, "I already have the chains, and the tools, and the tricks of the trade."

"Damn," David said, in a voice that said, whatever else you may think about Marissa, you've got to respect that woman.

She had reached us and she stared at me. "Out on the patio," she said firmly.

I looked at David. He looked back at me. He didn't look scared. And there was no way he was as concerned as I was.

"What do you think?" I asked him.

"I think if it was somewhere in the back of your mind enough to put on your list, then I want to do it for you," David said.

Marissa was already outside on the porch.

David pulled me to him and kissed me. "Come on Baby, try. We never have to do it again. But Marissa's right. You dreamed it. Your readers will want to read it. And I want to give you this. I want to do it for you."

What am I supposed to say to that?

"I'm waiting," I heard Marissa call.

Well fuck.

"Yeah, we're coming," I called back.

As we walked toward the double glass doors I could see out to the patio. Every time I saw it, I was taken by the view. The patio was very large balcony that overlooked Marissa's huge pool. The patio had a big stone outdoor table with a colorful umbrella in the center, six wrought iron chairs, and two plastic lounge chairs.

David and I opened the doors and walked out.

We went out onto the porch and when I caught sight of Marissa I got shocked all over again. God, that outfit. She looked like bitch dominatrix from hell. Like if she had a cat-o-nine tails she could do some serious damage.