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Over the Rainbow Ch. 01

By: Tara_Neale



"What did you expect?" Tara whispered to herself as she looked around the club. Other than the huge St. Andrews Cross that stood in the center of the room and the spanking bench that was just to its left, it could be any night club, any place in the world. Of course, the walls were painted a dark red with black accents but the lamps scattered about provided a warm glow without being too bright. There were couches and benches arranged in the corners of the room with a couple dozen people already arrayed upon them, chatting away as if it were any Saturday night, in any club, any place. A song that she recognized as one of her favorite 80's hits played softly in the background. There was even a disco ball suspended from the ceiling although it was not turned on.

What truly set this room apart from any other club that Tara had been in before were the people. She had never seen such a diverse and eclectic group. In one corner sat a group of women, some in short leather skirts, but most in full flowing gowns with sequins and feathers. The women chatted amongst themselves as two young men, naked except for the studded leather collars about their necks, knelt at their feet. In another corner, an older man in a diaper was in deep conversation with a woman, who was quietly tapping a crop against the couch as if warming up for her turn at bat. A tall woman that was obviously a man in drag sat next to them. In the corner nearest her, a half dozen people in leather pants and corsets were talking. She caught snippets of the conversation and was surprised to realize that it had nothing to do with the kink that brought her to Rainbows. The topics as mundane as work and family. 

"What do you think so far?" the deep voice from behind drew her attention. She turned towards the sound to discover the leather clad gentleman that had been at the reception desk when she checked in. He was not the young or studly Doms that filled the pages of the erotic romances she had been reading for years, but there was something about him that commanded respect. Something markedly different than the couple of fakers that she had met through the social networking sites. There was no doubt; this man was a real Dom. And even though she was not sexually attracted to him, he did something funny to her tummy.

Tara shook her head, "I don't know. I don't know what I expected really," she whispered nervously.

He laughed and the sound washed over her like cool waves against hot sand. "We're just normal people," his mouth turned up just enough at the corners to relax the tightness in her stomach. "With a couple of kinks. I'm Peter by the way," he said as he held out his hand. "I am one of Dungeon Monitors here. So if you have any questions or need anything, just find me."

Tara shook his hand, wondering if he could tell how nervous she was. "I'm Tara. I suppose you can tell I'm sort of new," she stammered as the woman with the crop stood and held out her hand to man in the diaper. "To all of this."

That chuckle once more sang in her ear like a comfortable chorus, "New? No way," he teased as another couple moved past them. The woman dressed in a pink chiffon dress that reminded Tara of Shirley Temple, complete with white knee socks and black patent leather Mary Janes. "So what is your fetish?"

It was the question that Tara had been asking herself for almost two years since her divorce. And she still did not have the answer, but admitting that to this stranger seemed too intimate somehow. "I'm a sub, I think," the answer as close to the truth as she had come.

"You think? You either are or you are not," he replied with a confidence that had Tara's head spinning like a naughty girl called to the principal's office. 

"It's just that I have not done much really," she knew that she sounded like that little girl making excuses, but her brain did not seem to be working at the moment.

"A virgin," he smiled. It had been over a quarter of a century since Tara had given her virginity to the boy that would become her husband. The experience had been almost laughably typical: the back seat of his car after Homecoming nonetheless. But she had to admit that she was as nervous this night as she had been that one. The enormity of it all crashed into her then. What was she doing here?

As if reading her mind, or perhaps just experienced enough at his job to recognize the signs of newbie panic, the man firmly gripped her elbow and led her to the one empty corner in the room. "Breath deeply," he commanded and there was no doubt from the authority in his tone that it was a command. "In through your nose and out through your mouth. In, one, two, three, four. Out, one, two, three, four." The count seemed to go on and on for several minutes, the room blurring about her as people came and went. 

She could hear something now, a loud cracking sounds that seemed in perfect time with his count. She looked up to see the woman with the crop. The man was chained to the St. Andrews Cross, the diaper about his ankles now and nasty red welts were beginning to rise on his hairy bottom. "I should go," she stammered as she tried to pull from the man's grasp.

"No," there was that tone again, the one that had her dropping her eyes and automatically nodding her head. "You want to know if you truly are submissive. You need to know if you belong here. You have come this far, now is not the time to run, my wounded dove." He pressed a bottle of cold water into her hand, "Drink this and I will show you around properly."

Tara watched the woman with the crop as she drank. She had the man dancing almost. Each blow caused him to jump and yelp. But after each blow, he counted and politely said, "Thank you, Mistress."

He saw where her eyes had landed, "That is Rachel, Mistress Havisham. She is an award winning Domme. Not that I have much respect for that lot, but as female doms go, she's the best. If you are curious about your pain thresholds, think you might be masochistic, then I can introduce you." He paused for a long moment and just watched her watching the other woman. "She is the other Dungeon Monitor here, so also a safe refuge if you get into trouble." He chuckled a moment, "Trouble! That's what I am going to call you."

Tara wanted to argue, to deny the man's words. But after two years of reading trashy romance novels about BDSM and fantasizing about something that was obviously way more than it seemed, she had the distinct feeling that trouble was exactly what she was in for. 

He looked at the almost empty bottle and reached out, taking it from her hand. "Follow me. I'll introduce you around."

Tara fell into step easily behind the man as they passed through the main hall. "This is the kitchen. Lady Bella puts on nice spread. Partly that is because it is important to eat and especially drink while you are playing. It helps to minimize sub-drop. You have heard of sub-drop, right?" He studied her with the firm gaze of a high school guidance counselor.

She nodded, "Yeah, I have read about it."

"Read about it, humph," he poo-poed. "Virgins never are as much fun as you think they would be."

She slunk back against the wall a bit at his harsh appraisal. His laughter rang out breaking the tensions a bit. "Yeah, you're sub. And trouble. Anyway, the other thing about Bell's buffet is that it provides a nice gathering place. At some point during the night, everyone is going to come through here at least once. So if you want to meet people, in a non-threatening way, it is a good place to hang out."

Tara nodded her head and smiled. As a chef she above all people could appreciate the unifying effects of food. But she was not ready to share her secrets with this man. Yet.

He took her through a door and down a dank set of stairs. "This is the other good place to meet people. The smoking area. Do you smoke?" He did not wait for her answer as they approached another older man and the woman in the Shirley Temple dress. 

"Hey, Bob, you got a light. This is Tara. She's a new sub, probably read about all this in that stupid book and wants to give it a try. Tara, this is Master Watts. The little is Beth. Beth, Tara. Tara, Beth."

Tara extended her hand first to the young woman. "Tut-tut. Such bad manners. You do need training," replied Peter. She dropped her hand to her side and dropped her eyes to the dirty cement floor.

The other man laughed, "Give the poor woman a break, Peter. You will scare her off. It's not like there is an excess of female subs around here. Hell, these Dommes and their boy toys are practically taking over. Not all of us are lucky bastards like you with a slave and a service sub." The man held out his hand. "Don't worry about the old man. He can be too full of himself sometimes. Welcome to Rainbows."

Tara smiled and took the man's hand. "Thank you," she mumbled uncertain what to say or make of any of it. 

"Bob's specialty is electrical play, which is why he's called Master Watts. He usually has the only Violet Wand in the house...if you are curious to try that."

Tara shivered as she remembered the particularly nasty description of the thing in one of her books. It had been used to torture a young woman beyond her limits. The very idea of the thing caused shivers to run up her spine. 

The other man noticed and chuckled, "Trust me, little lady, one taste of my pleasure/pain and you would be lining up just like all the rest. Isn't that right, kitten?" The man softly caressed the cheek of the woman child standing next to him. She nodded and simply replied, "Yes, Daddy."

Tara could not stop the quick intake of breath at the word. She felt a firm grip on her elbow and looked up. Peter had a grave face on; the one that reminded her once more of a guidance counselor. Without knowing exactly what, she knew that she had made a big mistake. 

"Well, see you two back inside," he said as he stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette and guided her by the elbow back down the corridor the way they had come. He stopped in the corner of the kitchen, just on the other side of the door. 

"Listen, Trouble, you are going to see and hear a lot of things here that those stupid books have not prepared you for. But this is a safe and NON-JUDGMENTAL place for all," his emphasis upon that word made her drop her eyes to the floor once more. 

The word rang in her mind like church bells. The church bells that had called her to service every Sunday for a life time. The preacher's daughter in her little white dress and gloves, sitting upon the front pew, in black patent leather shoes almost exactly the same as the ones the woman/child wore. The preacher's wife towing the line. Until she walked in on her righteous husband balls deep in a young Sunday school teacher. What did she know about non-judgmental?

She pulled away from him, "This isn't the right place for me. I should be going," she mumbled as she tried in vain to hold back the tears and pain of a lifetime. 

He gripped her elbow tighter, "No, I pride myself on knowing people, understanding them. Twenty-five years as a history teacher in inner city schools will do that for you."

Tara burst out laughing before the man could finish his statement. "What's so funny about me being a teacher? Most of us have quite normal jobs like teacher or police man or secretary. Like I said earlier, we are just normal people...with a few kinks."

She shook her head and tried to compose herself. "No, nothing funny. It is just me. I had been thinking of you as a High School guidance counselor since we met," she tried explaining through bouts of girlish giggles. 

Peter chuckled. It softened his stern appearance for a moment. He looked almost boyish as he joined her in laughter. "Assistant principal to be exact. For the last five years of my career." The softening of the crinkles about his eyes made him appear almost 'human' for the moment...even in the harsher fluorescent lighting in the kitchen. 

"Preacher's daughter and former preacher's wife," she found herself confiding almost against her will. 

He laughed again and shook his finger at her, "Whatever will god think about this? You are in big trouble now, young lady."

She frowned for a moment. Why did those words...young lady and Daddy...illicit such strong emotions in her? It was a question that she was not yet ready to face. All of this was enough to tackle for the moment. 

As if reading her mind, like some trick at a Halloween carnival, Peter continued their earlier conversation. "This world has a lot of things that people out there...in the 'real' world," his tone said more about that word than anything, "will never understand. Hell, just ask a feminist why a woman would want to kneel and hand control over to a man, any man. But those same women would have no problem using and abusing a male submissive. It is all about personal perspective."

He smiled, but it did not seem to reach his eyes, those wrinkles about them were once more set into firm hard lines. "We all wear our masks out there. But in here we try to provide a safe place for people to be themselves. To explore those dark secrets and fantasies that they have been ostracized for. To be the person that they have been denying and hiding for a lifetime."

His words sang like a comfortable old hymn in Tara's battered heart. "I hope you will stick around. I do think, feel, you belong here." That firm face which must have sent even the toughest gang member scouring was back in place, "But if you stay, you are going to have to open up that mind of yours. Leave the judging to your god, if he exists, because no one knows what is in the heart and mind of another."

He paused and looked her up and down for a very long moment as if taking her measure. When he was finished, his look gave her no clue as to his 'judgment.' Was she worthy? Or had he found her lacking? He would not be the first man to do so, that was for certain. 

"Most of us do not even know our own." He let her elbow go and held out his hand. His face seemed to age, heavier somehow. "I do hope you stay, Tara. But only you can decide if this is the right place for you. The right time. Whatever you decide I wish you the best. Good luck finding the answers you seek. If you need me, just shout. But I need to get back to the reception desk. I was on my way here to get my slave something to eat when I ran into you. She's diabetic and I need to see to her." 

Tara nodded. She wanted to thank the man for his words of wisdom. But her throat was much too tight for words at the moment. Here was what she had come looking for...a Master who put his slave first. 

As he turned his back to her and began chatting with the cute young woman behind the table, giving her instructions on what needed to be refilled and what should be cleared away, Tara was left feeling the one thing that she had most of her life...lost and alone. 

She was just about to walk away...out the door. Another dream extinguished. Another rainbow followed to the end without finding the proverbial pot of gold. 

"Excuse me," a voice said from just behind her. 

She turned to see the young man whom she had noticed when she came with the woman-child, with Beth. She could tell from his tight smile that he was just about as uncomfortable in this place as she was at the moment. Though he was probably several years older than her daughters, something about him brought out the mother in her. She wanted to wrap him in her arms, comfort him, and tell him everything would be all right. 

She smiled, "Am I in your way?" she asked as she realized that where she was standing probably blocked the line for the buffet table.

Like the little boy that he reminded her of, he shook his head apologetically. "No, you're fine. It's not that," he stammered. "It's just that I am new here. I just brought a friend. I've never been to a place like this before and I don't know exactly what I'm doing here." 

He chuckled and drew in a deep breath, "Master Smooth, I'm not, I guess you can tell. What I was trying to say was...you seem a bit lost like me. Would you care to get some food and a drink? Perhaps sit down and chat a bit?"

Tara smiled at the young man. "That sounds really nice."

***

The rest of the night flew by remarkably fast. She and the young man, whom she learned was Josh, ate and talked. She discovered that he had been in the lifestyle for several years, but that he had never been one for the clubs. His fiancée had left him several months back and he was just beginning to get out again, explore, and date. 

Tara could sympathize. It was certainly where she found herself after a quarter of century of marriage. The good little preacher's wife in the den of iniquity. They had talked and talked as they watched others play around them. 

He seemed really nice and if nothing else she had made a new friend she thought as she turned off the lamp next to her bed. Rainbows might not have been anything like what she had imagined after reading all those books about dungeons, but it had been an experience. She had seen and learned new things. Things she was still processing as she slipped her vibrator from beneath her pillow and turned it on. 

Her mind played back over all that she had seen this night. She sought a fantasy, something new and different to get her off. She frowned...it was not that none of it appealed to her. More that none of it seemed real to her...anything within her grasp. Fun games that other people played. 

Instead she went back to her favorite fantasy, the one that she had been using for months. Her mystery Dom. His hands moving over her. His voice commanding her. Him using her as He saw fit. Between the fantasy and her rabbit the happy O came quickly. She laughed at the double entendre as she turned off the vibrator and slipped it back under her pillow for the morning. 

Sweet dreams of Oz...somewhere over the Rainbow filled her mind that night.

Over the Rainbow Ch. 02



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Click Here to listen: .mp3 format or .ogg format. (1 min/mp3)

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Tara stretched as she came awake slowly. At her age, she was not used to late nights like yesterday. But it had been worth it. She still was not completely certain what she thought about it all. Rainbows had certainly been an eye-opening experience. From female Dommes to cross-dressing men, most of it was things that she had little knowledge about. 

It was nice though to actually see and occasionally touch things that she had only read about: Saint Andrew's crosses, spanking benches, cages, suspension frames, whips, floggers, the list went on endlessly. But it was the people that she could not forget. They seemed...so normal in many ways. But with their kinks as Peter had said. 

She was still playing over in her head the big question: did she belong there? There was little doubt in her mind that she was a submissive, but some of the things she had seen just seemed too far beyond her comfort zone.

She shivered as she remembered one particularly nasty bit; a Domme had locked an older gentleman's bits in a horrid device they called a humbler. The poor man had been in so much pain that he could not manage to stand. Instead the woman had made him to crawl around the club, showing off. How could anyone enjoy such pain and humiliation was beyond her understanding. Still...the thoughts kept running through her mind. 

She had made a horrible mistake. Master Watts had been playing with Beth, the woman-child in the Shirley Temple dress that she had met in the smoking area. He was using the violet wand on her, running it up and down the back of her body. He turned a dial on the thing and the girl screamed out. She had been sitting next to Mistress Havisham nearby. It was only natural (to her anyway) that she reach out; ask the girl if she was all right. 

Mistress H, as some people affectionately called her, had reached out a firm hand to restrain her. She had looked sternly at Tara and shook her head, "We never interfere with a scene." It was of course one of the rules that she had read about in all her books. She knew better and was horribly embarrassed. Still you never knew what something was like until you experienced it for yourself. She had simply been unprepared.

Unprepared in so many ways, she thought as she stretched and got out of bed to make herself a cup of hot coffee. She had of course apologized. The other woman had been kind, remarking that such things were understandable in a newbie. She had asked whose protection she was under. It was not something that Tara had considered until then. She was a grown woman, divorced, a mother, a professional even. Why would she need a protector?

It was just one of the points she pondered as she poured herself a cup of coffee and stirred in liberal amounts of sugar. As she did most mornings, she opened her laptop. Starting with business, even on a Sunday morning, she checked her emails. Two new orders had come. That pleased her, building a bespoke sewing business specializing in doll clothes gave her both a sense of accomplishment and independence. She had come a long way in the two years since her separation. 

Opening up the kinky social networking site where she had found out about Rainbows, she smiled. She had most definitely come a long way. She saw that she had three messages in her inbox. She had given her screen name to several people that asked, so she was more than a bit curious to see who had messaged her.

The first was from the woman-child Beth thanking her for being so kind as to help her change out of her dress at the end of the night. The bathroom doubled as a changing area and it was packed. The girl had been having trouble getting her dress off over her head in the cramped area. Tara had just helped a bit. The other woman truly did exude a child-like innocence that called to something deep inside of Tara, made her want to cuddle and protect her, as she had almost gotten into trouble for doing last night. 

She wrote a quick message telling the young woman she was very welcome and suggesting that she send a friend's request. She paused before hitting the send button. If Master Watts was her 'Daddy' did she need his permission before asking such a thing? It was another bit of the lifestyle that puzzled Tara a bit. In the end she had added the words...'if it is all right with your Daddy.' That should cover things she thought as she moved on to the next message.

It was a decently long message from Peter. He apologized for not checking in on her during the rest of the night. He explained that between his staff duties at the club and his subs he had not had the time. Tara frowned. She was of course familiar with the word polyamory by now. She had received more than one message from Doms in that lifestyle looking to add to their 'harem' as she had disdainfully named it. 

She recognized that she was perhaps being judgmental but after a lifetime of monogamy it was a hard concept to get her head around. Of course, as Peter had said there was no place for that kind of judgmental attitude in this community. Still polyamory cut a bit too close to cheating as far as she was concerned. And cheating was something she wanted no part of.

The rest of his email read more like an essay assignment. He asked her how she was feeling about the experience now, had she seen anything in particular that appealed to her, that frightened her, that she had questions about. She smiled as she took a sip of her hot, sweet coffee. There was simply too much in his message to deal with before a second cup of coffee...and perhaps even then. She was still too confused about much of what she had seen to answer half his questions. But then too she saw what he was doing; by asking those questions he was forcing her to face the things that were confusing her...and the ones that called to her.

She smiled as she saw that the final message was from Josh. The young man, whom she had met in the kitchen last night. He had been a newbie too. Although not new to the lifestyle, strictly to the club. He seemed much too young to have been in it for the decade he claimed. She shook her head. He had seemed so nice; why were all the nice ones submissives? Although she was way too old for him anyway, she supposed. 

His message was as polite as he had been. He enquired if she had had a good time. Did she think she would be coming back? It was in some ways along the same lines as Peter's but much less probative. Answering it might even help her to formulate a response to the other, she thought as she hit the response button. She thanked him for the wonderful conversation and told him that she had found the night very eye-opening. 

As her fingers hovered over the keys, she pondered the other question: would she go back? She realized that answer was more obvious than she had thought. While there was much there that was way beyond her sedate comfort zone, she had felt a sense of belonging in that place that was unlike anything she had ever felt. Yes, she would be going back. It was almost as if she had no choice.

Of course, it would be a couple of weeks before the next event. The site said that the daytime events were smaller, more intimate, with more time for play. Not that Tara had done any play at all. Not that she had anyone to play with. Mistress H had offered. It was one of her duties as the House Mistress to see that unattached subs got what they came for. But to Tara that sort of casual play was as meaningless as one night stands. No, what she craved was a Dom. Her own Dom. She frowned as she thought about Peter, one that she did not have to share with other subs too.

She poured all of that into the message, not even bothering to edit her thoughts. That was one thing she really liked about Josh...how easy he had been to talk to. While his mind had been just as quick as Peter's, he did not wear that über Dom attitude like a wizard's cape to cloak his feelings and thoughts. He was genuine, open and real. She sighed, too damned bad he was probably more submissive than she was. Nice guys usually were. She hit the send button before she poured herself another cup of coffee.

She was more than a bit surprised to discover a new message in her inbox when she returned to the table. Josh had responded already it seemed. He agreed with much of what she had said. Even though he had been in the lifestyle since his very first sexual relationship, he too had learned much and seen things that he wanted to try, he said. He agreed too that it was not something he wanted to do casually, that having a string of subs was not his style. 

Tara re-read that line a couple of times. Josh did not want a string of subs? Why would a submissive want a sub at all? She shook her head. What was she missing? The young man that she had spent most of last night talking with was a...Dom? It made no sense. The place was filled with dominants...male and female. They strutted and preened. Even the ones who came alone walked about as if they owned the place and everyone in it. Like Peter, Master Watts and Mistress H, they were not easily overlooked. Hell, even in her silly books, the heroines felt instant sparks, just knew they were in the presence of power. So how had she spent the whole evening chatting amenably to one and not even known it?

She stopped reading there. Hit the respond button once more. She did not even think about keeping her faux pas to herself. The whole sordid thing came out in a great gush of words as her fingers raced across the keyboard. She hit the send button before she could second guess herself. 

Then she got up from the table and made herself a third cup of coffee. She usually only drank two, but considering the late night and this latest shocker, she deserved a third. Perhaps even a fourth before heading into the second small bedroom that doubled as a sewing room and guest bedroom when one of her boys was home from university. 

She started to walk right past the laptop with her cup of coffee until she noticed that there was another message in her inbox. LOL...it said. She opened it, not knowing what she expected. Josh was not offended at all. It seemed that she was not the only one who had made that mistake last night. He had been propositioned by three Dommes, including Mistress Havisham, before deciding to hide out in the kitchen. He had been delighted to discover that he was not the only newbie, who was unattached. And he had really enjoyed their conversation. 

She smiled. Why did that please her so much? The man was only five or six years older than her eldest son. She had no business even flirting with him. And that was most definitely were this was heading. She was not sure when or where it had gone from simple friendship but she knew, just knew in the pit of her stomach, that it had. Did she really want to go down this path? With this man? A man so much younger than she was? 

She sighed as she felt her nipples harden against the soft cotton of the sari she wore wrapped about her lush curves. She thought about his cute boyish grin. As she pictured the way his lips curved up as they watched one of the Doms paddle his sub on the spanking bench. How had she missed that look, she wondered? Oh yes, the man was most definitely Dom. And if that twinkle meant what she thought, a hell of a sadist too. 

Tara felt moisture gather between her thighs as she remembered that look. What would it be like to be on the receiving end of it? Oh she was not fooling herself, this man was way too young for her, but still he was easy to talk to. The bonds of friendship though tenuous were already there. Would it really be so bad if they explored a bit this new world together? 

She shook her head. Called herself and old fool then sent another message. She explained that she needed to get to work for a bit but gladly accepted his friend's request. She was shocked to find herself including her cell phone number...if he wanted to text her later, she offered. She hit the send button, thinking that was probably the last of it. 

She had not even put her coffee cup in the sink before her phone buzzed with the simple message...hello. She smiled. She felt her confidence growing as a woman. This cute young man had noticed her. It was more of an ego boast than she wanted to admit. 

She got pitifully little done that day between text messages. She was barely able to finish a seam before the next message came through. She gave up and curled up with her phone on the couch by mid-afternoon. She promised herself that she would do better tomorrow. That this was just a silly day of simple flirtation as she slipped deeper and deeper under his spell.

By the time that darkness enveloped her, their message stream was many pages long. The fact that Josh was Dom had been only the first surprise. He had no idea she was so much older than he was either. It pleased her, fed her vanity when he said that she looked nowhere near her age. She discovered too that Josh had been engaged. A three year relationship that had ended very badly just a week before their wedding date. It was a pain she understood all too well after being tossed aside by her ex-husband for a younger woman.

Overall, it had been a surprisingly fun day. Texting and getting to know someone new. If it went no further than friendship, he was a nice and interesting person, she thought as she typed a final message into her phone: It is late. I should get a shower and head to bed.

The little cursor on her text messaging lit up instantly, indicating he was typing. But she was not prepared for the next message when it came. 

'Get your shower. But make certain you are very clean. And shaved. I want a pic before I call.'

Tara swallowed hard. The message was pure Dom. One-hundred...and ten...percent. And it did funny things to her tummy. Things that had only happened when she read her books. But this was no erotic romance. This was real. Very real. Was she ready for that? Was she willing to surrender that much control to him? Was he the one she wanted to give that power to? 

Her hand trembled as she stared at the lit screen in the darkness of her living room. Almost twelve hours. Pages and pages, hundreds of text messages. It had all been leading up to this. She had known that. At least on some level. Now she had a decision to make. Was she going to obey? Was she going to take that step from fantasy to reality? Was she ready for that?

Her fingers trembled even more as she typed. She was glad for auto-correct, missing key letters. But with the help of the program her message was clear...'Yes, Sir,' it read as she hit the send button before she could do something stupid...like erase it all. 

The next words on the screen did even funnier things to her tummy, her nipples and her cunt. 'Good girl,' had her whole body a tingly mass of nerve endings. She placed the phone on charge safely on the night stand next to her bed as she stripped and tossed her sweaty clothes into the hamper. She practically ran to the shower. 

His instructions were clear in her mind as she stepped beneath the pulsating spray of the shower head. She reached for the soap as she lathered her underarms, legs and private parts. She had just shaven them all yesterday before going to the club so there was only the lightest of stubble, but she was careful to follow his instructions, getting all of it in long, sure strokes. When she was finished, she shampooed her long red hair. Then put a liberal amount of soap on the loofah. The roughness as she drug it across her breasts caused them to tingle and send tiny spirals down her tummy to her clit. She held back a moan as she moved the sponge lower still. The shower smelled of lavender and wet wanton pussy by the time she was finished. The more she washed the wetter she had become. 

It was no better as the soft, roughness of the towel ran over her body. Every inch that she dried seemed to spread the wetness further down her crack until it was practically dripping down her thighs. She tried to remember the last time she was this excited but she failed. This was a whole new level of sexual frenzy. And it was all his fault. 

She hung the towel up and rushed back into the bedroom. She picked up the phone. But was disappointed to see there were no new messages. She frowned. Why would he do that? After a day of light teasing and then that text, why would he not respond? She re-read those last couple of messages again. 

That was why, she thought as her hands trembled so much that she feared she would drop the phone. Did she dare? Was she actually going to take a picture of her naked body and send it to a man she had known barely twenty-four hours? 

She flicked on the bedside lamp and light flooded the room. She bit her lip. There was no way she was sending a full frontal nude. That touched on way too many of her insecurities. After twenty years of marriage, fighting to keep a dying sex life alive, only to be betrayed in the end in the worst possible way, she had sworn she would never be naked again with another man. End of. Full stop. Period. It was a hard limit.

She lay back on the bed and spread her thighs. As odd as it seemed, it was less intimate to send him a photograph of her freshly shaven cunt than a nude pic. It took her a couple of attempts to get the picture, her hands were trembling so badly that each seemed to blurry. But at least she managed the impossible and hit the send button before she could talk herself out of it. 

She turned off the lamp and was about to crawl under the covers when her phone rang. She picked it up and recognized the name and number instantly. She was surprised. Even though he had said he would call, some part of her had not really expected him to. Nervously, she pushed the answer button, "Hello, Josh?"

"Sir. You will call me Sir from now on," despite talking to the man for hours just last night, she barely recognized the voice. His voice was so much deeper. It held an authority that it had not then. One that did unimaginable things to her tummy and other parts of her anatomy. One she did not dare disobey.

"Yes, Sir," she mumbled.

"What toys do you have?" his voice caressed her mind and sent confusing clarity racing along neurons. 

"None," she replied timidly, knowing it was the wrong response.

"Tut, tut. We shall have to get you some. To use for me when I am not that to play with your pussy. Is it as wet as it looks in the picture?" 

Her nipples tightened even more at the dirty words. He seemed so nice. She was reminded of Clark Kent's transformation into Super Man. She giggled nervously as she pictured her mild-mannered boyish friend clad in leather and wearing that same power the other Doms had at the club. 

"I asked a question. Is your cunt as wet as it looked in the pic, Tara?"

His words drug her back to the moment as she mumbled, "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

Her throat constricted. She knew the answer he expected. Knew that he was drawing a line. But was she willing to cross it? This was the moment of decision. Was she ready for this?

She shook her head no even as she replied, "Yes, Sir."

"Good girl." Two simple words and her whole world tilted and turned upside down. She had read those words hundreds, maybe thousands of times. Each time a tiny spark had lit the dark corners of her brain. But this time, hearing them spoken aloud, to her, in that voice...they exploded like a nuclear bomb. Like Krakatoa blowing itself to bits, heard thousands of miles away on other continents even. She trembled at the quakes rushed over her. As the fiery lava coursed through her blood. 




Over the Rainbow Ch. 02



She knew in that moment...she was truly submissive and there was not much she would not do to hear those words again. From this man. In that voice. She was addicted and he was her dealer of this new and powerful drug. 

"Now some rules, baby," he purred in that low, deep voice. "I want you to touch yourself. Play with that wet pussy. Just like I would if I were there. Do you understand me?"

Tara nodded her head as she sank back against the pillow. She listened to the silence in confusion for a moment until she realized that he could not see her response, "Yes, Sir," she whispered breathlessly.

"That's my good girl," the volcano inside her mind exploded again. Just as strong, perhaps stronger this time. He fed her need, gave her the drug she craved more than air itself. "Now finger yourself. Rub your clit for me."

Tara moaned as she touched herself for the first time that day. She could not believe how hot and wet she was. How close she was to an orgasm. 

"Listen to me, sweetheart," that voice reached through the fog of sexual need clouding her mind. She fought her way back. Not because she wanted to leave the nirvana of pleasure but because she needed her drugs...his approval...those words. 

"Yes, Sir," became the only words she was capable of saying it seemed.

"This is important. You have to tell me before you come. I want you to tell me that you are about to orgasm. Do you understand me?"

She nodded again, then whispered, "Yes, Sir. Tell you before I come. But I am so close already."

She heard a quick intake of breathe on the other end of the phone. "How close, baby girl? How close are you to coming for me?"

"Sooooooooo close," she moaned into the phone as her fingers rubbed across the aching hard nub of her clitoris.

"Good girl," those words exploded in her mind again, pushing her higher as she moaned into the phone. Her body was afire in a way she could never remember before. "Ask my permission, baby girl. Ask me before you can come."

His words bubbled in her mind like lava in that volcano. Fueled by gases churning far below the surface. "May I come? Please, Sir? I need to come so bad. Please?!?" she pleaded mindlessly.

"Not yet, baby girl," his voice was even deeper this time. "Pinch your nipples," he commanded.

She obeyed reluctantly. Her fingers slipping from her wet folds to pinch at her nipples with one hand as she almost lost hold of the phone with her other. She moaned again. The pain should have cooled her burning inferno between her legs, not fanned it higher. "Please," she pleaded again.

"Almost, baby girl. Ask me again. Ask me to come again Sir," he seemed to growl the demand. 

"Please Sir, PLEASE. I need to come so bad. Please may I come for you?" she cried into the phone as her fingers found her slick wetness again. 

"Yes, come for me. Come now," the command exploded in her mind even as her body exploded into the most powerful orgasm of her life. 

"I'm coming," she cried out into the phones as she felt her inner muscles tighten so much that it was actually painful. Her nipples resonated with the pain that she had inflicted upon them at his command. Her mind exploded with lightning and thunder that rumbled through her head. It went on and on for several long moments as she writhed on her bed. Her fingers on her clitoris prolonging the pleasure...and the pain.

She floated slowly back to reality...or was it? Everything seemed different. She was different. 

"Beautiful," his voice purred through the fog. "That was perfect, Tara. We will talk more tomorrow. But you need some sleep now. So be my good girl and get some rest. Okay?"

"Yes, Sir," she whispered the litany that she feared might become the most common words in her vocabulary. She doubted very much that she could sleep after that. A thousand questions and thoughts seemed to be lurking in the shadows of her mind.

"I mean it, baby girl. Sleep. Do not disappointment me." His voice was firm. How could she disobey him? 

"Yes, Sir," she whispered again as the sleep that she had feared would not come easily began to close in around her just as suddenly as that orgasm had captured her body.

"Good night, sweetheart. We will talk much more tomorrow. I promise," he said.

"Yes, Sirrrr," her words slurred as slumber took her before she could even hang up the phone. 



Over the Rainbow Ch. 03



Tara cursed as she rolled over and picked up her cell phone. It was after nine in the morning. She should have been up two hours ago. She should have had at least one outfit finished and be well into a second by now. But staying up until after midnight on the phone with a young Dom did funny things to you it seemed. She cursed again as she raced first for the bathroom and then the kitchen. She definitely needed to feed her caffeine addiction. Better that one than the other one: her need for those words...from him.

She poured the water over the crystals of dark coffee and white sugar. She watched it turn a dark muddy brown as she stirred. She cupped it lovingly as she brought the steaming mug to her lips. The flavor burst in her mouth as quickly as that orgasm had burst from her soul through her body. She shook her head, trying to clear the confusion that hung like fog over the Thames. Questions too numerous to count filled every corner of her mind. 

She sighed. She could not afford another day like yesterday. She had to focus on work. Get at least three orders filled today, especially if she wanted to clear her schedule for the next party at Rainbows in two weeks. But honestly she knew that if she sat down at the sewing machine now she would spend more time ripping out stitches than she did putting them in. No, she needed to put some order to her thoughts, come up with a plan, just like she always had with her business and family. 

She looked at her phone. It was after nine and not a single text even though he had said they would talk today. Perhaps he was waiting to hear from her, but she was not comfortable with that on a couple of levels. First of all, as old fashioned as it sounded, she believed that men did the chasing, not women. Even more so because it just did not seem right somehow for a submissive to be the first to contact a Dom. She shook her head again. No, if he wanted to continue this thing then the next move was up to him. 

With that put firmly to rest, she opened her laptop. Another three orders were awaiting her in her email. "Fuck," she cursed. She really did have to get this thing under control. Herself under control. She opened the social networking site. No new messages from him there either. The confusion grew in her mind. Perhaps he had just been using her. Perhaps it was just a one off thing. He had gotten her hot and bothered. Cheap phone sex and he was done with her? 

It was not like she had that much experience with these things. Hell, it had been more than close to a quarter of a century since she had even dated. And that was vanilla crap. These things? The BDSM, Dom/sub shit was totally new to her. She had absolutely no idea what she was doing. Mistress Havisham's words about a protector rang once more in her mind. It seemed that she sure as hell needed one as embarrassment at how easily she had fallen under the young man's spell sprung up from the well of her conscious deep inside of her.

"No fool like an old one," she said to the emptiness as she opened her messages once more. The unanswered one from Peter stared accusingly at her. Perhaps answering it would allow her to gather her thoughts, organize them, figure out where she went from here. It seemed a better option than spending the whole morning checking her text messages and ripping out stitches. She read it again...

***

Dear Tara,

It was a pleasure meeting you at Rainbow's yesterday. I am sorry that I could not have been a better host. But I got caught up helping out on the desk and of course my first responsibilities are to my slave and sub. 

How did you find your visit to our little club? Sometimes things can be a bit overwhelming in the moment but make more sense when you think about them in the light of day. I could tell that you were feeling a bit like that but hope that you will take the time over the next few days to think more about what you saw and what we talked about. As I said, we are all just normal people like you. We just have discovered these little kinks, needs, desires deep inside of us. We get together occasionally to let those things out safe, sanely and consensually before return to the 'real' world. 

As I said then too there will be things that you see that do not appeal to you, some that may even seem frightening or disgusting. But a central ethos of this community and Rainbow's is the motto, 'your kink is not my kink.' In other words, this is a big world with lots of diversity and even if we do not understand something we need to accept that it works for that person. As I said judgmental attitudes have no place in this community.

But I believe that you do...have a place here. You seemed genuinely curious about the lifestyle and more importantly yourself. It takes courage to explore parts of yourself that society deem deviant, unacceptable, sinful even. I am glad that you felt you could do that at Rainbow's.

So what did you think? Did you see anything that appealed to you? That you really want to try on your next visit? There will be a next one, won't there? Was there anything in particular that scared you? That you had questions about? Some of these things can be as I said overwhelming and frightening. Some of them may bring back bad memories or fears. Those are what we call 'triggers.' Did you discover any of those? 

I suppose that is a bit much to digest especially from someone you just met. So tell me to fuck off if you want. Just know that I am here if you have questions or need anything. I do hope to see you again at Rainbow's sometime soon.

Good luck,

Peter

***

Tara stared at the computer screen as she unfolded the layers of the email. As she had in school she began to outline her response carefully in her head as she sipped on the coffee. There was so much to say. She could go on and on for pages if she let herself but this man was probably just being polite. Who knows perhaps it was even part of his duties as Dungeon Master to follow-up on the newbies? No, it was best to keep things simple. That decision made she began to type:

***

Dear Peter,

Forgive me if that is supposed to be Sir or something. I completely understand how busy you were; I would say tied up but that would be more appropriate for subs. I do appreciate how you and Mistress Havisham took time to show me around, introduce me to people and make certain that I understood the rules. Overall, the experience was very enlightening. 

I did make one severe faux pa when I interfered in a scene between Beth and Master Watts. They were playing with the violet wand. When he turned something up she screamed out quite loudly. It was startling and I am afraid that stood up to ask her if she was all right. Mistress H corrected me before I could do any major damage though. So I suppose all is well.

So to answer your other questions, besides the humbler for which I lack the proper equipment anyway, I do not think I would much enjoy electrical play. If Beth, who is such an experienced sub, finds it so distressing then I think it is best that I avoid it. 

There were several things that did appeal to me though. In particular flogging. I saw several people throughout the night being flogged. Some used very thin and stiff looking floggers that sung through the air when swung about. Others used thick, long and very soft leather that looked almost sensual. I think that I would prefer the latter as I do not consider myself a 'pain slut' (hope I used that term correctly). 

I liked too how most of them were tied up to the Saint Andrews Cross. I had read about those in my books, but of course never seen one until last night. Then to see three at once was delightful. I found the makeshift chain one that was hung from the wall in the side room rather ingenious. But I actually preferred the rather ornate one in the main room. It seemed to be almost a work of art. Of course, I have not discovered how it feels to be tied to one but hopefully one day I will.

And the older Mistress in the corner was amazing with the whip. It cracked and echoed so loudly with each stroke. She seemed in complete control, landing each blow directly where she wished upon the sub's back. The sound was like thunder, terrifying and yet soothing at the same time. The red welts that criss-crossed the sub's back when she finished were a work of art (yes, I know that I used that word before but it seems the only appropriate one). 

I do not think that I had any what you call triggers. And honestly, much of what I saw was like a kid in a candy store. I want to try this and that and that and that. So, yes, I will most definitely be back. I am hoping to make the daytime party in a couple of weeks. I would like your thoughts on a couple of things before then though.

I kind of messed up pretty badly during a scene between Beth and Master Watts. He had her bound with rope and they were playing with the violet wand. I was sitting nearby with a group of others, just watching. She seemed to be really enjoying it until he turned a dial then she screamed out in real pain. Even though I have read and read about not interfering with a scene, it was the most natural thing to just reach out for her, ask if she was all right. Luckily Mistress Havisham was nearby and stopped me from anything further. 

She was very nice about it and I apologized. But she made a comment asking who my protector is? I did not realize that I needed one. I mean I know that I am an unattached submissive and all but I am also a grown woman. Do I need a 'protector' to come to the club? What the heck does a protector do anyway? How do you get one even?

***

Tara paused for a couple of moments. She was confused and a bit upset about what happened with Josh last night. She desperately wished that she could talk to someone about it. She considered for several long moments whether Peter might be that person, a sounding board. But in the end, she felt that she did not know the man well enough to reveal her lack of good judgment in such matters. Reluctantly, she signed the message and hit the send message. 

She looked at her phone once more. It was almost ten-thirty and still no word from him. Not a single new text message. She was beginning to feel that she truly had been used. And it hurt. Worse than she would have expected it to given how little time she had known the man. 

She knew she should get to work. When you run your own business, it has to come first. You cannot afford to get distracted so easily from your work. She knew that but still she found herself way too restless to work. Instead she puttered around the kitchen cleaning a bit. She checked her phone and the laptop every couple of minutes for messages from him. And each time she got more discouraged, more disgusted with herself. 

She practically jumped up and down like a child on Christmas morning when the computer said that she had a message. But her face fell once more when she saw that it was not from him. But Peter had responded quickly. She opened it although not with the enthusiasm that she ought to have perhaps.

***

Tara,

I am sorry if Mistress H gave you the wrong impression. No, you did nothing wrong by coming to the club alone. All are welcome: partnered and unpartnered, experienced and inexperienced, young, old, male, female and other. We readily accept all. So please do not feel that you need to stand on such formalities before visiting us again.

As for your other questions, as with most things in this lifestyle, there is no cut and dry answer. A protector can be many different things to different people. To some it is nothing more than a trusted friend from whom to seek advice, a person to turn to for information and guidance. To others, it is more a Dominant in absentia type thing, where this person assumes much of the responsibilities for the care and oversight of a sub until she finds the right Dom. I find this latter pompous and pretentious. But then again those words apply to many (Doms/Dommes) in this world. 

Personally, I believe (from our brief acquaintance) that what you need is not a protector but a mentor. And that role is pretty much the same in this lifestyle as it is in the business world...someone more experienced to offer you his/her opinion, advice and insight but that would be all it was. The decisions would be yours to make as you saw fit...and you would accept the consequences of those choices. 

As to how you get one? The same way you find a Dom...you get to know people, find out who you can trust, whose counsel you respect. Then you ask them if they would be comfortable being your 'protector'/mentor. The two of you then negotiate to agree upon the limits of that role that works best for you both, same as you negotiate limits with a Dom before you start playing. 

I hope that makes sense and look forward to hearing from you soon.

P

***

Tara stared at those words, read and re-read them several times. 'Same as you negotiate limits with a Dom before you start playing.' She knew that was the problem. She should not have given Joshua so much control, so much power, so soon, not without discussing, negotiating things more fully. 

"Shit," she cursed herself. She had gone to one event. One lousy party. And she had made two colossal mistakes already. "Fuck," she cursed herself again as she re-read the message in its entirety. She studied Peter's definition of mentor. It was a concept that she could understand. As a solicitor her former husband had both sought out one and been one to younger colleagues. She bounced the idea around in her mind for several long moments before her fingers returned to the keyboard.

***

Peter,

Your concept of a mentor sounds exactly like what I need right now. I know that we have not known one another very long but I really could use your assistance finding my way around Rainbows and this complex lifestyle. Would you consider being my mentor?

Tara

***

She studied this message as well. It was short and simple. She wondered if perhaps she should not share more about why she needed a mentor. He knew about her interfering with Beth and Master Watts of course. But should she explain about Josh as well, she pondered as she made another cup of coffee. 

It just seemed so personal. And although that was the purpose of having a mentor, to share your troubles with, seek their experienced views, this was still too raw. She felt more like a fool with each passing moment that her phone did not ping with a message from the man. No, until she knew if the man would agree to be her mentor, this was just too intimate to share. She hit the send button and cleared the kitchen table, determined to force her mind back to her work while she still had a business.

She made herself walk past the table with her cell phone and the open laptop. Enough of this personal crap! She had a business to run, she reminded herself once again as she walked down the hall to the spare bedroom that served as her sewing room/office. She picked up several pieces that she had already cut out and began to sew. 

The wonderful thing about it was that sewing was something so mundane that it always relaxed her. She had learned to sew from her Nana as a young girl. Her ex-husband had often complained that she cluttered their home with her chinsey homemade shit when they could afford designer label instead. Of course, with two sons, she had never been able to indulge her passion for making baby girl clothes and doll stuff. But after the divorce, with no real work skills to speak of, she had turned that passion into a business making them for others. 

She lost herself in her work. Every time those thoughts of the young man whose voice had caressed and cajoled her to do things that she never dreamed she would came to her mind, she forced herself to focus upon sewing the straightest seam imaginable. After who knew how long bent over the machine, its soft whir her constant companion, she stretched. She gently massaged the tight muscles in her neck and surveyed her progress. She had finished all the items that she had cut out. Six in total. It was a decent day's work for certain. 

She heard her tummy growl and remembered that she had not eaten anything, only cup after cup of sweet coffee to fuel her efforts. She looked at the frilly doll outfits on the bed, an intense feeling of pride and longing filled her heart. They were beautiful to be sure. It always saddened her that most of her clients were adult collectors. These outfits would adorn some antique doll to be sat upon a shelf or in a display cabinet, never to be dirtied or know the love of a little girl. It seemed wrong somehow, but it paid her bills. 

She shook her head at the melancholy that seemed to have gripped her thoughts. First Josh. Then her faux pas at Rainbows. And now this. She needed to snap out of it. Perhaps food would help. She retraced her earlier steps back to the kitchen. She forced herself to ignore the laptop and phone on the table. Food first, she commanded herself. 

She looked in the refrigerator but nothing appealed to her. She checked out the cupboard and finally decided to go with a can of soup and crackers. It was not the gourmet meals that she once made for her husband and his frequent guests but it was nutritious. She warmed it in the microwave and sat at the table.

Only after she had finished half of the bowl of soup did she allow herself to push the power button on the laptop that would bring it back to life. She hit the refresh button on her Internet browser window. There was a message waiting for her. She smiled as she opened it.

***

Dear Tara,

You certainly are easy. Ha-ha! Seriously though, you are right. It is a bit early yet. You do not know me that well. I could be some radical crazy or control freak (I am not). These things take time to develop. 

On the other hand, the very fact that you asked so quickly leads me to believe that you do need someone to keep you out of trouble. Trouble! That is your new name. 

So Trouble...on a temporary basis...until you find your way around the BDSM world and make some new friends, I agree to serve as a mentor of sorts. We will discuss it more face-to-face when you come to Rainbow's next week. For now, please try to stay out of any more trouble!

P

***

Tara wanted to deny his claims that she was trouble. But given the complicated situation that she had managed to find herself in on just one trip to the club even she could not deny his words. She picked up her bowl and cup and took them to the sink. She washed them up before returning to check her emails. Two more orders thankfully. She would spend this evening trying to catch up by cutting out patterns. It would be a much better use of her time than being used by a young Dom she decided. 

Her phone pinged. She picked it up and noticed the time. It was almost six in the evening. She had been focused on work. It pleased her that despite her mental turmoil she could get so much done. Then she noticed that she had nearly a dozen messages. She opened them and sighed with relief.

Josh: Good morning. Well afternoon I guess. Sorry I forgot to mention last night that I had a staff meeting this morning. I would have texted you before it but don't know what time you wake up. 

Josh: I really enjoyed talking to you yesterday and getting to know you. The phone sex was a nice extra too. You are really hot. I can't believe your age though. Really?

There were half a dozen more, almost one an hour until this latest one. 

Josh: I am sorry. I don't know what I did wrong but I must have done something for you to ignore me. I am no stalker so I won't bother you anymore. It really was a pleasure talking to you yesterday and I hope that you find what you are looking for in the lifestyle. I guess this is good-bye.

Tara's fingers flew across the keys as she typed her response. Her plans to get more doll clothes cut out that evening completely forgotten as she lost herself in him...again.



Over the Rainbow Ch. 04



Tara stared at the reflection in the mirror. What did one wear to a fetish fair? It was the thought that had plagued her for days. Ever since Josh asked her to the damned thing. It was not a club like Rainbows after all. Although there would be an after-party that was similar, they would not be staying for that. Josh had to go out of town for a few days on business. So he had to get up early to be at the airport. No, they were going with a very specific purpose in mind. Josh wanted to buy her some toys. Sex toys. 

She shook her head once more at the woman in the mirror. "What are you doing?" she asked. "The man is only five years older than your daughter for goodness sake." But that fact had not kept her from having phone sex with him almost every night for the past two weeks. Ending each night begging me for permission to come. 

He too had been shocked at the age difference. He had not thought her much older than his own twenty-eight. Certainly not the almost two decades that separated them. That fed her mortally wounded ego as much as the dozens, if not hundreds, of texts he sent each day and the naughty phone calls they shared each night. 

But that was it...their phone calls were not strictly naughty. They always began just as they had with friendly banter. It was nice having someone genuinely interested in how her day had been. And she too was genuinely interested in Josh's work as a computer geek...although she understood completely nothing of it. 

Yet it only took them moments of chatting and catching up before the conversation turned to other things. Usually how wet was her pussy. From their it was a constant barrage of commands. Touch herself for him. Pinch her nipples. 

He of course was disappointed that she did not have a vibrator or dildo to use on herself as he listened on the other end of the phone. But in the two years since she had been separated from her ex-husband, she had used her fingers exclusively to rub her clitoris...on those rare occasions when one of her sexy erotic romance books got her too hot.

She was almost certain that she had never come so much in her life as she did these past couple of weeks. She had just assumed that she was frigid, had a lower than average sex drive, did not like sex. It was what her husband had always accused her of anyway. So she was more than happy to discover the tigress hidden so deeply inside of her.

Of course, it had been easy so far. Nothing more than phone sex. In the dark. Beneath the covers. Alone even. Josh had been super busy at work. His company was writing a new app that would be launched this week. As senior programmer, it was his job to be at the clients offices when that happened in case something went wrong. So he had had no time to meet up. It did not help that he lived clear across the city. Over an hour away in fact. 

Tara looked critically at the woman in the mirror once more. She had finally settled on a shortish sun dress. Her shoulders were bare and the deep V neckline accentuated her full breasts. The hem fell to mid-thigh and likewise showcased her legs, which were probably her best feature. Women half her age would kill for their shapely, firmness. 

But the dress also did all it or any garment could to hide her greatest flaw. She pulled it tight across the soft roundness of her belly. The evidence of her child bearing that had so fascinated the Flemish baroque painter Peter Paul Rubens was clear in its roundness. She laughed sardonically. Four hundred years ago her Rubensque beauty might have made her one of his favorite subjects, but in the twenty-first century it was thin and young which took the day. 

She fought back images of the young Sunday school teacher that ensnared her ex-husband into sin. Although inn her more honest moments, she recognized that it was he who abused his power as pastor to entice the younger woman. It also called into question so many other things about her twenty year marriage to the man. 

But she did not have time this morning for any of those morbid thoughts. Josh would be here any moment. Then it was off to the fetish fair. She chuckled: how ironic that the former preachers' daughter and wife was spending a sunny Sunday afternoon looking at whips, collars and all other manner of naughty toys. 

She sighed. No, there would be plenty of time to indulge her doubts and insecurities later. Josh would be gone for the next two weeks. Their near constant communication curtailed to a good morning text and a late night phone call as he dealt with the demands of his job. She had already decided that she would use that time to catch up on her own work, the pile of sewing orders that seemed to grow larger with each passing day. She would also use the time wisely to examine this odd friendship and where it was going. 

Where was it going? She was not sure herself. Although she had fallen into the trap of just mindlessly obeying that commanding tone that still surprised her given her lover's boyish cuteness and youth, she did not know where she stood with him. There had been no mention of exclusivity or her becoming his sub. Her relationship status on the social networking site remained...single. 

It was a subject that she had discussed with Peter adnauseum. As her mentor, he had encouraged her to consider her position. Why buy the cow when you get the milk for free, he said. Butt still she had continued the clandestine phone calls with the young man. Their friendship growing with every passing day.

The ring of the door bell interrupted her musings just in time. She gave herself a final quick glance in the mirror. Whether she liked what she saw or not, it would have to do. She picked up the small purse that lay at the foot of the bed and practically ran down the stairs. 

She smiled as she threw open the door of her apartment. Josh stood there. His shoulders slightly stooped, his head down a bit, with that boyish grin on his face. Here was the man that she had talked to for hours at the club. Not at all the commanding presence that haunted her dreams long after they had hung up the phone. The duality confused her as much as anything.

And confused she was in that moment. The uncertainty of her status hit her full on then. Did she kiss this man to whom she begged for sexual release every night for the past two weeks? Dropping to her knees to kneel supine seemed ridiculous here where any of her neighbors could see. Of course, shaking hands seemed just as silly given the way she begged and pleaded with 'Sir' for her orgasms. In the end, she went with a brief hug.

It seemed the right choice as he smiled and returned the embrace. "I am really sorry that we don't have time to go to lunch or stay for the after party," he almost stuttered. She shook her head and reassured him that she understood as he led her to his car parked on the street. She sighed a bit, reassured somehow when he laced his fingers through hers. The gentlemanly way that he opened the car door for her brought a smile to her face. 

The fetish fair was only a twenty minute drive to a bar not far from her home. Most of the time, it served as a biker hang out with pool tables and a real old fashioned juke box. But one Sunday afternoon each moth its pool tables where pushed aside and it was transformed into a kinky 'flea market' of sorts. Although she had difficulty picturing such a thing.

The conversation was easy flowing as most of theirs were. Josh told her about the demands of new app. It was his biggest since joining this company eight months ago. After his fiancée broke their engagement, he had started over in the city. A new job, new apartment, everything. She supposed it was another thing they had in common. 

The parking lot was packed as they drove up. At least three dozen cars, motorcycles and trucks lined the pavement. "You get out here by the door while I drive around to find a place. Wait by the door." 

Tara's eyes widened. There was that voice. The command was clear. Her throat tightened as she looked across the car at him. Even his face had changed. There was something harder; gone was the boy. In his place was a man, a stranger. She swallowed back her confusion, "Yes, Sir."

Her mind raced even as she obeyed him. Where had that come from? How could he just switch it on like that? From casual conversation about work and the new city to full on Dom inn the blink of an eye. Was it this place? And more importantly, how did she feel about it? Was she going to just obey everything that he said? Without any negotiation? Without even knowing where she stood with the man? 

She chuckled as she watched him pick his way across the parking lot. His black jeans and shirt seemed distinctly out of place in this world of leather vests and chaps. Then again he seemed as out of place here as she felt. Maybe that was it...maybe his Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde was what she needed. Maybe she could so easily submit to Mister Hyde because of the intelligence and sincerity of Doctor Jekyll? Yet another idea to discuss with Peter.

He smiled as he placed his hand at the small of her back, guiding her into the darkness of the bar. They paused inside, waiting in line to pay the cover charge. It gave her eyes time to adjust to the lower light. She looked around at the two dozen or so tables and stands that filled half of the bar. They seemed to be filled to capacity with everything from leather pants and skirts to a table full of those dastardly violet wands. People packed the floor between the stalls, waiting their turns to pay for purchases or ask questions.

She was relieved to note that she and Josh were not the only ones dressed down. The room was packed with an array of people just as Rainbows had been. Some of them dressed even more casually in jeans and t-shirts. Others dressed from head to toe in leather. A couple were even walking around in nothing more than thongs and collars...both female and male. One or two wore diapers. Hell, if she was not mistaken one was wearing a pair of leather chaps...with his bits on full display. She definitely was not in Kansas anymore, she chuckled.

Josh paid their entrance fees then took her by the elbow, guiding her protectively through the crowd. He seemed to almost know where they were going. She stared as they passed the table that was chock a block full of small wooden and velvet-lined boxes with wires and dials. A small man smiled secretively as he explained the item to the people gathered about his stand. She shivered as she heard the whine of the machine. The man held the glass wand in one hand as he ran it across the back of the other. He did not even flinch. Let alone cry out as Beth had with Master Watts. She shook her head...yet another thing to confuse her about this world.

"Here we are," came that voice again. Tara looked up to see a stall lined with a surprisingly large selection of sex toys. Not that she knew overly much about them. Of course, she had read in some of her racier e-books about dildos, vibrators and even the shiny rubbery cones that she suspected were butt plugs. But she had never been to a sex shop, held one, let alone owned any of them. 

Until Josh, her fingers had been sufficient to get her by on those occasions when she needed to relieve her sexual tensions by taking matters into her own hands as it were. She fought back that same panic that had almost made her in run in fear from Rainbows that first night. She still might not know whether or not she belonged in these places, this world, but as Peter would say the only way to find out was to stay and see things through.

She sighed as she released the tension in her body and nodded to Josh silently. She watched him as he picked up several dildos, hefting them as if taking measure of their weight and size. "Come here, Tara," he crooned as her tummy dropped to her knees again. She had no choice but to obey.

"How large was your husband?" 

Her eyes flew wide with the intimacy of such a question. And in such a public place as well. She stammered for a moment, trying to figure out an appropriate response. "Ave-rrage, I suppose," she stuttered as she turned a red shade of pink.

He frowned as he laid back the largest of them. Its shiny blackness frightened her as much as its sheer size. It was almost as big as her forearm. There was no way that thing could fit into anyone.

"Why are you surprised? You have had kids. You should know just how much a cunt can stretch," he chuckled.

Tara shifted nervously from foot to foot. While she recognized the logic of his words, the casual way that he used that word, cunt, both revolted and excited her. She had been raised to call them girl and boy parts...if you absolutely had to call them anything at all. At school she had learned their proper names: vagina and penis. Of course, her spicy books that had become her addiction and had opened this Pandora's box, this slippery slope to hell, used other words. Cock, pussy maybe. But sometimes colloquial terms like manhood, channel, even womanly softness. She tried to even think of when she had actually heard or read that term but she could not remember, although she must have at some point if she knew its meaning.

She watched as Josh picked up an odd shaped plastic package. Its contents was even more unusual looking. It was shaped like a dildo, well like a cock to be exact, but thankfully it was not as large as the one that he had laid down. It was encased in the same shiny rubber that the other one had been made of but it seemed more firm. And unlike the other one that had a pair of testicle shaped things at its base, this one had an actual handle with an array of buttons. But the most unusual thing about it was the odd shaped and much smaller phallus that jutted from its base just above the handle. It too was covered in the rubber but at the end it bifurcated into what looked for the world like...bunny ears.

"A rabbit," they both said at the same time. Their eyes caught and they laughed. The tension abated...at last for the moment.

"I know you have not had any lovers in the past couple of years. And that you don't own any toys either. So I'm guessing that even with loads of lube that thing," his head tilted towards the black monster he had laid down earlier, "is not the best idea."  

She chuckled as she nodded. She watched as he bit his lower lip and his eyes rolled down to the side. He turned the same bright pink as she had when he used that word. She strained to hear as he finally spoke, "But I am a far sight bigger than 'average' too." 

Tara blanched and colored again. What would her former friends from church think if they heard this conversation, saw this place? As Peter would say...what judgment would her god pass? Except that she was no longer even certain that she believed in god. At least not the vengeful male of fire and brimstone that her father and husband had shouted about from the pulpit. Even if such a creature existed, she was tired of living in fear of him and his judgment. If she was going to burn in hell for all eternity, then she was going to make sure it was for far more pleasure than a few secret e-books and fantasies. If she was going to pay for her sins, she wanted to at least taste the sweetness of the apple.

When she came out of her own convoluted head to look back up at him, the embarrassed and shy boy was gone once more. In his place stood that man. "While I am gone, I expect you to use this every night," that voice caressed her into a jumble of raw emotions. She nodded her head. "What do you say?"

She cast her eyes down to the floor. She knew what he wanted to hear. What he had heard dozens or perhaps even a hundred or more times on the phone. But this was different. This was more real somehow. Face to face. In this place. It was a more complete surrender to his will. One she was not sure she was ready to make yet. 

Then her mind went back to her thoughts of just a moment before. She did want to taste that apple. She honestly did. And with that came the submission to him...to fate...to her needs that he craved. "Yes, Sir," she whispered.

She was rewarded with a broad smile. It was an odd combination of that boyish grin and sin itself. "Good girl," that voice floated from somewhere as he turned back to the vendor and handed her the package. 

Tara was left to look around the dark confines of the building as he finalized the purchases, paid and took the surprisingly large brown paper bag from the woman. Once more she was struck by how ordinary most of the people were. Sure there were a handful of super models...both male and female. But most of the crowd were average...or older or like her had a few extra pounds. There were also a surprising contingent of geeks and nerds just like Josh. It was a marked deviation from the fantasy world spun by words on a screen. 

She wondered...had any of those authors ever been to a place like this? Had they ever tried any of the things that they wrote about, that she had witnessed at Rainbows? Had they ever felt those odd butterflies in the pit of their stomachs, the tingles at the sound of that voice? Did they know the power of those words...'Yes, Sir' and 'Good girl'?

Josh took her elbow once more and led her back through the crowded room. They took the ride home in silence. Both seemed lost in their internal battles. Tara longed to spill hers as much as she longed to know his. But she was reminded of just how uncertain this thing between them truly was. 

He walked her to her door but refused her offer of coffee. She nodded her head even though she really did not understand. She was not certain what she even felt as he passed her the bag. She was not certain what to say either. In the end, she settled for "Thank you, Josh."

He smiled then. The little boy. "You're welcome."

Then he did something that truly shocked her. He drew her gently into his arms and kissed her. His lips were soft but firm. They brushed like butterflies back and forth across hers until she relaxed into his embrace. Then just when the tingles of sexual awareness burst through her, he drew back with that other smile. The knowing one. "I will call you later, baby girl. You are not to open the bag until I do."

Then he was gone. Leaving her as alone and confused as she had been...for forever it seemed.



Over the Rainbow Ch. 05



Tara walked down the dimly lit corridor. She smiled as she neared the bright light at the end. Maybe this was not her father's or husband's heaven but she was excited to be back here. Two weeks, was it really only two weeks since she had been to Rainbows? So much had happened since then. Her mind still reeled with all of it. More questions than answers though.

She knew that Josh would not be joining her today. He was still away on business. She had debated how to handle that one actually. They spoke on the phone almost every night; more like had hot phone sex. The drawer next to her bed was full of the toys that he had bought for her at the fetish fair. 

In addition to the rabbit that she had known about, when she opened the bag that night there had been half a dozen other items. A bottle of lube that remained unopened. A small vibrator the size of her pinky that he said was called a bullet because of it shape and size. Two round silver balls a bit smaller than walnuts; he said those were ben-wah balls and would tone and tighten her cunt muscles, he used the word cunt not her. There was also a tiny baggy containing six round silver balls much much smaller; these he said were powerful earth magnet. It was the two remaining purchases that had shocked her the most: nipple clamps on a thick silver chain and a black shiny butt plug. 

She wore the earth magnets like piercings upon her nipples and clitoris as well the butt plug. They were making walking uncomfortable. She frowned, maybe not uncomfortable. None of them were truly painful. The earth magnets felt like a light pinch on her nipples and clit. Of course, she was finding it exceedingly challenging to walk in five inch heels with a butt plug up her ass. 

Maybe that was her punishment for telling Josh that she was coming today. But without a serious discussion about where they stood and perhaps even a relationship status change on the naughty social networking site, she was not going to give him that kind of power. She frowned, he already had more than he should. The fact that she wore the marks of his 'ownership' as he had called them was proof enough of that. 

She inhaled and shook her head. She was not going to let these questions that plagued her keep her from having fun today. She was determined on that. But she was hoping that the quieter day event would give her a chance to sit down and discuss it all with Peter, her new mentor. Although she was fairly certain she would not like what he had to say on the matter. 

She plastered a smile into place as she stepped into the light fully. Speak of the devil, Peter sat at the registration table beside Belle, the older and rotund woman who organized these twice a month events. Tara reached inside her purse and drew out the entrance fee. 

She watched as Peter spoke with a very small and round young blond woman. Her hair was cut exceedingly short and curled tightly about her face. Tara was reminded of the other woman she had met last time: Beth. This one also had that innocence of a woman-child. Was that wings on her back? Tara chuckled, she certainly looked like a cherub. 

"Hello, Tara, is it?" asked Belle as she rifled through the sign-inn sheets. "We are certainly glad to see you back so soon." Her genuine smile was one of the things about this place that had put Tara to rest immediately. 

The other had been the fact that unlike the books she had read these people were not thin and beautiful like models. They were normal people just like her: older, rounder, softer. She actually could feel safe, pretty almost, parading around this place in the faux leather mini-skirt and corset that she wore. Once more she was struck with that feeling...like coming home, like she belonged here. Oddly enough it was the same feeling that she had once gotten when she went into a church. 

Peter turned to them as the young woman rose and scurried off, skipped off would probably be a more accurate description. "Trouble," he called out with a big grin. She could not find the will to be offended, not with a smile like that on the man's face. 

Since their meeting at the last event two weeks before and the messages that had flown back and forth the next day, ending with her asking him to be her mentor, they had messaged half a dozen or so times. He regularly checked in to see how she was doing and if she had any questions or concerns about the lifestyle as he called it...or just life. They had discussed the nature of Doms and subs, including his views on Dommes or female Doms. He was not a big fan of them, feeling like it was not something that came natural to most women, any woman for that matter in his views. 

They had also discussed Beth, the little, or woman-child that she had met last time. Although as a mother, Tara felt uncomfortable with anything that smacked of incest or pedophilia but Peter assured her that Daddy/little girl was neither of those things. Even though she still did not get how pretending that your Dom was your daddy could possibly be sexy or even sane, he had reminded her that there was no place for her judgmental attitudes in the lifestyle. 'Your kink is not my kink' was the phrase he had taught her.

Of course, they had not discussed the one thing that bothered her most: Josh. What the hell was she doing with him? Not just because he was so much younger, but more importantly because of the way that they had just fallen into things. Everything she read about the lifestyle told her that such things were discussed, even negotiated, between Doms and subs. But from the first night, he had simply taken control and she had surrendered it...without question. While she desperately needed Peter's advice on this, she was definitely not looking forward to what he had to say.

She returned his smile as she handed the admission fee to Belle. "It's good to see you too," she kidded. 

She stepped to the side to chat with him as Belle turned to the middle aged biker that was in line behind her. She seemed to know him well, perhaps he was a regular. She admitted she was distracted as she made small talk with Peter about the weather, which was exceedingly hot, even for a Southern California summer. She found herself torn between looking for an entrance, some way of bringing up the subject of a private chat later with Peter, and watching the man.

He was not very tall, certainly less than six feet. His hair that was pulled back in a pony tail was the strangest mix of dirty blonde and dish water grey. But his light blue eyes sparkled as he joked with Belle. They hugged briefly and then the man picked up the large back pack on the floor and turned towards the restrooms that doubled as changing areas. He walked right into the ladies room.

She felt Peter's fingers on her chin and heard his chuckle roll like the tinkling bells of Christmas over her. "Close your mouth, Trouble, before the flies get in." He used his fingers to turn her back to face him, "That is Lady Laura. She is a cross-dresser. Remember what we talked about? Your kink is not my kink."

Tara nodded her head and dropped her eyes. She had been well and fully reprimanded. Again. And just as it had when Mistress Havisham did it, it stung. More than just her pride. She wanted to fit in. She wanted to follow the rules here. She wanted to please these people. As she had her whole life long, Tara raved nothing more than to be a 'good girl.'

He smiled and echoed her thoughts, "Good girl. Now go get you something to eat and chat a bit. We will talk later. Once the registration table dies down, I will come and find you. Jessie was not feeling well today, so it is just me and Pixie Dust."

She nodded, knowing that Jessie was his slave. A woman that he had been involved with for close to a decade. Of course, her health was failing quickly and she did not make it to all these events even though she and Belle were best of friends. Tara had heard him speak of Pixie, what he called his service sub. She was still struggling to get her head around the concept. He was her Dom but being in a monogamous relationship with Jessie, there was nothing sexual about it. She added that to her growing list of questions that would have to wait until later.

She dropped her bags along with close to a dozen others against the wall and turned to leave, "Stay out of trouble, Trouble," he teased as she walked down another dim lit corridor to the main dungeon. She could hear moans, the crack of whips and floggers and the occasional scream coming from the smaller dungeons along the corridor. But she knew the rule, if the doors were not open then don't look. Private play it was called.

She stood just to the side of the main room, allowing her eyes to adjust once more. Just as the last time she had been here everyone seemed to be sitting about with friends, chatting and eating. It reminded her of high school with its cliques. 

The jocks and cheerleaders were perhaps the Dommes and their boy toys in one corner. Although these women were a bit old and overweight to be cheerleaders, the boys would certainly fit on the football team. Come to think of it, the girlish laughter from that corner had the distinct ring of cheerleaders sharing some naughty secret. And Tara knew from the last time that when one of these women tied her toy to the cross for a flogging, the noise of both Mistress and sub could more than match a Friday night football game.

The older woman that she had seen talking with the man in diapers last time was once again holding court in another corner. She had the air of superiority...like the class valedictorian. Her group of friends deferred to her and seemed to be unable to move without her direction. If the other Dommes were flamboyant, there was a quiet power about this one that said she knew exactly who she was and what she was doing. Having watched her with a whip last time, Tara would have to agree fully with that assessment.

Then there was Mistress Havisham and a small group of others, mostly subs, although she noted that Master Watts sat next to Mistress H. She smiled when she saw Beth sitting at his feet wearing a diaphanous gown and collar. Here were the student council she thought. Those charged with making order out of chaos. 

She sighed. As always she felt to ponder...where do I belong? 

She was quite literally knocked out of her reverie and would have fallen flat on her face had two strong arms not come out to catch her. She stared up into the pretty face of...

Lady Laura? 

If the biker she had met in the hall was cliché, non-descript almost, then this creature was...lively. That was the only word that fit. Hair that she had dismissed as scraggly and dish water grey now fell about a decidedly feminine visage. Like Tara she seemed to favor the natural look with just a light dusting of lip gloss and mascara. 

Tara shook herself as the other woman helped her to stand once more, "I am," the deep voice cracked. Then as if remembering herself she paused and when she began again her tone was higher, softer almost the kiss of a butterflies wings. "I am sorry. I was not looking where I was going."

Tara shook her head, "Don't worry about it. It was my fault. I should not just stand lurking in door ways," she smiled as she held out her hand. "I am Tara."

The other woman took her hand, but instead of shaking it or even kissing it as a gentleman might, she drew her into a quick embrace. "Laura, sugar. I saw you talking to Master Peter when I came in. Are you a friend of his?" She placed a hand lightly at the small of Tara's back and moved them both of the way of traffic coming through the corridor and towards the kitchen at the back of the room. "How about we get something to eat before we try and find a place to sit? It looks busy today especially as hot as it is. I did not think there would be so many people here today. This place gets hotter than a firecracker on the fourth of July."

Tara wanted to laugh at the sound of Lady Laura's falsetto voice. Her tone that was just a couple of octaves above a whisper as well as the decidedly Southern accent made her comfortable in some strange way. She was reminded of her maiden Aunt Mary, the woman who was the keeper of Southern genteel womanhood. She would not have found Lady Laura's manners or demeanor lacking at all as she ushered her into the kitchen.

The young woman inn the wings was behind the buffet table. Laura and she embraced. "You just look so adorable today, sweetie," said Laura. As if remembering herself, she stepped back and made introductions that would have done Aunt Mary proud. "Tara may I present Pixie Dust. Pixie Dust, this is Tara. Are you new here, sugar?"

Tara noted the quick look of dislike that clouded the young blonde's face for just split second before she plastered a welcoming grin into place. She shook her head, "Not totally new. I came to the last party a couple of weeks ago," she explained.

Pixie squared her shoulders, "Yes, Master Paul has become her mentor. Not like he has enough to do with Jessie and me and his duties here."

Tara smiled. So here was her problem...jealousy. The girl had nothing to worry about in that department that was for certain. As much as she respected Peter for his knowledge of this new world, he fit decidedly into the friend's zone. There was not a single spark there...not like that. But then again if this girl was his non-sexual 'service' sub why should that matter to her anyway? Another in her long line of questions. 

Laura handed her a paper plate before beginning to fill her own with meats, cheeses, bread and cookies. Tara smiled again. At last there was one lesson of Southern ladyhood that Aunt Mary could still teach Laura. A true Southern belle never did more than pick at her food. Laura may look more woman than perhaps even she did, but she retained the appetite of a man.

They finished filling their plates and walked back into the main room. Tara decided it was probably best to just follow Laura. She seemed to know what she was doing and where she was going. They made their way over to the area where Mistress H and Master Watts were holding court. Laura smiled and curtsied. Tara wanted to laugh. The woman actually curtsied. No one did that anymore. Laura lowered her eyes and whispered, "May we join you, Mistress?"

Mistress H looked up with a smile. "Of course, you may Lady Laura. You know that you are always welcome here."

Master Watts cackled, "Damn, if you didn't have the wrong equipment between your legs, I'd take you on a a sub. Best damned trained one I have ever seen." Then his eyes turned back to Tara and ran up and down her. She had heard the term 'undressing you with his eyes,' but never until that moment had it felt so real. 

Some part of her was frightened by this man, wanted to run as far and as fast as she could from him. But Mistress H merely giggled like a giddy young girl and placed a well-manicured hand on his arm, "Now, dear, stop teasing the subs."

Tara's eyes widened and she looked from the Mistress and Master to Lady Laura. They all laughed, "I forget you are new here. Master Watts and Mistress Havisham are married, dear," explained Laura in a low tone that was barely audible. 

More questions sprang unanswered to Tara's fertile imagination. It seemed that was all there was in this world...more questions than there was answers to be had. 

Before she could even take the seat next to Laura that was offered, Peter came through the door. He smiled and placed a hand upon her shoulder. He looked at them all. Despite their conversation about female Doms, he seemed to know and almost respect Mistress Havisham as they chatted. They talked casually about the number of people who had come and the weather once more. Then with a nod to Laura and the other Master, he said, "Come with me, Trouble."

Tara dropped her eyes and placed her plate on the table next to Lady Laura's. It was the first time that she actually noticed...but damn the woman's legs were better than hers. And she had always thought her legs were her best feature. But this woman's was exceptional: long and shapely accentuated by the short skirt and high heels that she wore. Their outfits matched so closely that they could almost have been twins. Except that somehow it did not feel right...how could this woman who was actually a man have better legs, manners and feminine mannerisms than she did? It was as if the bier made a better woman than a woman did.

She sighed and smiled at her new friend...and that was exactly what Lady Laura had become. Like that sweet girl who takes the risk to approach the new girl on her first day at school, Lady Laura had become the anchor that she needed. If she still found the transformation from hairy biker to Southern dame unusual, all she knew was that Lady Laura was the more 'real' of the two. It was as if that biker were merely a façade for the woman that dwelled within.

She flinched as she felt the pinch of fingers gripping her ear lobe tightly. "I said, come with me, Trouble."

Her eyes sought out the comfort of her new friend, but Laura only smiled and shrugged, "I'll save your seat."

Tara thought about how true her assessment had been...abandoned by her new friend on the first day. To the principal...well assistant principal it would seem. Time to face the music. She could only hope that her new mentor might have at least a few answers to the many questions racing in her brain. 

But no matter what...she was glad to have made at least one new friend...no matter how unusual Lady Laura might be. If only she was not so damned jealous of those legs. It really was not fair that a biker could look better in a mini-skirt than she did.