|Anne & Susan|
|by Anne Woolsey|
|© Copyright 2009 - Anne Woolsey - Used by permission|
|Storycodes: F/f; firstmeeting; mall; bond; rope; cons; X|
|Anne & Susan by Anne Woolsey F/f; firstmeeting; mall; bond; rope; cons; X|
|Story inspired by the missing chapter of The Victim and i hope i didn't screw it up.
Anne shrugged out of her parka and hung it on the peg. She pulled the ski hat off and tried to fluff the hat head from her hair without success. Sitting on one of the kitchen chairs, she toed off her Uggs and turned towards the wood stove for its welcoming warmth.
“Damn weather” she muttered.
Winter just wouldn’t quit; early March and it was snowing heavily with temps in the twenties. Why do I live up here, she thought for the hundredth or was it the thousandth time? She knew why of course, family, friends, roots, but if you weren’t bitching about something you weren’t alive, at least that’s what her grandfather used to say. She never asked why she lived here when she was on Ogunquit Beach in the soft summer evening light or when she walked up the ramp and into the startling greenness of a Fenway Park night game or when she stood on the knife edge of Mount Katahdin.
It was just the winters that got to her and really just January and February. She wasn’t a snow or cold person. She had tried to take up skiing or snowshoeing, but just couldn’t work up any enthusiasm for those activities. That she hadn’t been able to escape to a warmer spot this year was part of the problem.
She made tea and took it into the den. She logged on to her regular e-mail and deleted all the spam leaving no messages of any consequence. She moved onto yahoo, which she used for kinkier stuff, and found a message from Gromet. Hmmm, he must have posted my story, she thought.
“Shit! Damn it!”
The message said that there was something wrong about the story continuity. She went to the Plaza site and saw what Gromet was talking about. There did seem to be something missing, like a whole chapter. She scoured her sent mail and found nothing. She went through the documents on her C drive and couldn’t find the chapter. Anne slumped back into her chair and tried to picture what had happened. She knew she had written that part, but what had she done with it? A check of the backup cd yielded nothing as well.
She hit reply and wrote back to Gromet. She had in fact “mucked up” as he had so delicately put it. Should she make it right by sending the chapter (after she rewrote it, damn it)? She ended with a mea culpa offering herself up for punishment by bondage.
This issue wasn’t earth shattering, but it was just another annoyance in a life currently filled with them. She did take some pride in writing her bondage stories; no one would mistake them for literature, but she got a charge out of doing them and out of the comments she got from readers.
She shuffled off to bed muttering about everything and nothing.
The next day, a cold and snowy Sunday, she found a reply from Gromet telling her to send the story chapter and suggesting how perhaps her punishment could be served. She giggled at his suggestion and, with coffee at the ready, began to recreate the story. It came back to her and she was able to put it together in short order. She went onto yahoo to send it off to Gromet and found another message from a reader asking whether something was missing. She replied to him as well and then thought she should probably put something on the bondagestories bulletin board. She signed on and found the thread about the story, wrote an apology and suggested that any punishments that folks thought were necessary be forwarded to her.
Maybe I’ll get a story idea, she thought. The rest of the day passed quietly as the snow finally wound down. She kept busy with the Sunday newspapers, long-delayed cleaning projects and the annoying shoveling of the driveway. It wasn’t until after work on Tuesday that she was able to get back on line.
In her yahoo mail was a message from a name she didn’t recognize, but the subject was ‘punishment’. She opened it, eager to read what they might have in mind, but a little apprehensive that it could be gross.
It was from a woman (she assumed it was a woman) who called herself ‘galroper’. It wasn’t gross at all and Anne found herself getting a little tingle from what the woman was suggesting (a hogtie with toys inserted that were controlled by readers). She wrote back with something equally suggestive and got an immediate reply as if galroper was waiting for her.
That began a barrage of e-mails that lasted long into the night, a mutual e-mail seduction that had Anne typing with one hand with the other hand between her legs. It was rare for Anne to be turned on by this type of exchange, but she was and she loved it. Galroper was a funny, inventive, rudely sexy writer with wicked ideas about bondage that had connected in some intangible way with the inner submissive in Anne. Anne admitted to an orgasm somewhere near the end of the exchange and her writing partner confirmed she had come as well. Usually for Anne, when she had rarely pursued this type of activity, this was the end of it and she would sign off feeling a little weird, but galroper surprised her by sending a picture and suggesting that they meet. The picture showed a leggy 30 something woman with close cut blond hair wearing a t-shirt, shorts and hiking boots squinting at the camera and smiling widely. Of course, the picture could be of anyone, but she was not unattractive.
Anne was immediately on alert though. She had made a vow never to meet anyone from the ‘net and stuck to that promise religiously. Just because she had a good time with this person was no reason to break that vow… but she was interested. She reread the e-mail in which galroper acknowledged that she too was leery of meeting but had felt such a strong connection to Anne that she just had to suggest it. This gal also lived nearby, a fact uncovered during their e-mail exchange. Not wanting to just end it, as she knew she should and aware that it could all be bullshit, Anne wrote back that she would think about it and signed off.
And think about it she did. It nagged at her all day and she knew she had to make a decision. Usually… always, it was thanks but no thanks! This one was tougher to get by. After work she logged on to her mail and found another message from galroper. This gal is nothing if not persistent, she mused as she read through the message. Galroper, or Susan as she had admitted in this message, was suggesting the usual ‘meet in a public place for coffee’…tomorrow night at the mall food court!
Her better judgment suggested she say no, but something else was at work.
For one thing, Anne was between significant others, like almost a year between.
Another factor was that this Susan wrote authoritatively about how she would tie Anne and what she would do when she had her under control. Truth be told, except for some lame tries with other partners, Anne had never been truly and well tied! The stories she wrote were the product of her imagination, fantasies that played in her mind much too often, but were never realized.
She was 32 years old and had a strong desire to participate in a bdsm relationship, but she had never acted on that desire. If not now, then when?
And what would be the risk to just meeting? She hadn’t sent Susan a picture so there was no way she could know who, out of the dozens maybe hundreds of people in the food court, she would be. Anne could scout her out and leave if she didn’t like what she saw… a nasty way to treat her, but probably a solution that would protect them both from an unpleasant experience. She drafted up an acceptance message and then sat on it, mulling it over. Damn, it Anne, just do it!
She called up the message and hit send before she could change her mind. Like the night before, a reply came almost instantly. They would meet at 7:00 near the carousel.
All the next day Anne felt the apprehension and it distracted her enough that she left work early. As the appointed time approached, she showered and pulled on jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, combed her hair and applied a minimum of blush and lip-gloss. God, she thought, this was way too much like dating in high school!
She arrived early as she had planned and slipped in by the rear entrance. She bought a diet soda and sat at table where she could see all approaches and the carousel in the middle of the court and waited.
At around 6:55, Anne saw her approaching.
Anne sucked in a breath and felt her heart begin to pound. At the same time she was disappointed; a part of her had hoped Susan would be unattractive to her and she could scurry off.
That wasn’t an option now: Susan was gorgeous and Anne felt a pull toward her! She was taller than the picture indicated, slim with killer hips and a narrow waist set off by a short leather jacket. She wore a mid-thigh length denim skirt that showed her shapely thighs, black tights, tall length boots with knee-length gray socks showing above the tops. She found a table and took off her jacket to hang it on a chair. She was not busty, but the gray turtleneck she wore that matched the socks showed what she had to advantage.
Susan had obviously paid attention to what Anne had written that night, when she had admitted to a sock and boot fetish among other things. Anne would have worn exactly what Susan had on if she was going to meet someone about bondage… wait a minute; she was going to meet someone like that and she was dressed like a schlump! For a panicky moment, she considered slipping into a store and upgrading her outfit! Then she relaxed a bit acknowledging that she was what she was and a new sweater or skirt wouldn’t change that.
Get a grip, Anne! Go over and sit down. She’s here to meet you just like you are here for her. Yeah, but she doesn’t know what I look like! etc. etc. This internal dialogue continued for several minutes, until annoyed at herself for being such a wuss, Anne pushed back her chair and strolled around the court so that she could come at Susan from behind her.
She reached the table without being noticed and then stepped around into Susan’s line of vision. Her heart was in her mouth and she could barely get out the word.
Susan, startled, glanced up and broke into a sweet wide smile. Anne got the feeling that Susan smiled a lot and was comforted by that observation.
“Anne!” Susan rose and put out her hand to shake. Anne grasped it and felt the same sweaty palms she was experiencing.
“Do you want a coffee or something? I was just going to get something!” Anne agreed to a black coffee and a chocolate chip cookie. Chocolate always helped in any situation. Susan waved away the money Anne offered and Anne watched her sway elegantly around the tables towards the coffee bar. Anne wasn’t the only one watching and she acutely felt her latent inferior complex struggle to come out. She fought it back down and sat down to wait for Susan to return.
They agreed to move to a spot away from the noise and distraction of the kiddie carousel. Anne followed Susan carrying their jackets and bags, her eyes welded to the sway of Susan’s hips. Jeez, I’m like some horny teenager she thought even as the stirring in her belly intensified.
They settled in and sipped their drinks, splitting the cookie. After several minutes of silence, Susan smiled and spoke.
“So? What do you think? By the way, I saw you sitting over there. Where you trying to decide whether to run for your life while you could?” She had a genuinely amused smile that lit up her face.
Anne blushed red and looked down at the table.
“Well… I was actually thinking I should maybe go buy something better to wear. And whether I should just flee!” She laughed as the tension she had felt all day began to subside.
“You look fine to me, Anne! Really fine!” Anne blushed again; Jeez, she’s making me act like an airhead teenager!
They chatted about nothing for a while and drank their coffees. The small talk helped Anne to settle down and to really look at her tablemate. She saw a pretty woman about her age that exuded a relaxed, quiet confidence and a strong sense of being at peace with herself. Susan did smile and laugh a lot and, better still, listened when Anne talked.
Susan asked again, “Well, what do you think?”
Anne was momentarily nonplussed by the abruptness of the question. Then she blurted out “Why is an attractive gal like you resorting to meeting people in malls? I would think you would have no trouble…!” She stopped, not sure how to phrase the rest of her thought.
Susan laughed and then turned serious. “I could ask the same of you!” She continued, “We are both looking for something that is not generally found in the mainstream… let’s face it, we’re freaks! Liking… craving what we do makes us different, don’t you think? It is very difficult to find someone who is honestly and sincerely interested in this. Most of them will pay it lip service because they want to get into your pants, but there is no real interest there. When I read your stories, I sensed that we were alike and when I figured out you were living in the same general vicinity, I knew I had to at least talk to you. I hadn’t expected to get this far, but I’m glad to be here.”
“But those stories are just… just a lark! They’re fantasies! They don’t happen to me! I’m not the person in the stories!”
Susan reached across the table and covered Anne’s hand with hers.
“They are you, Anne. You’ve found a way to voice your needs. Whether you have actually done all that stuff doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you really honestly want to do it! Am I right? Tell me I’m not!”
Anne considered what Susan had said. She knew she was here because she had finally and belatedly understood that she did want to experience what she wrote about in her little stories.
“OK, you are right! I would like to be the heroine in my stories! But what about you? You can’t tell me that you have never found anyone to share this with!”
Susan smiled a little wistfully and Anne sensed that Susan had suffered because of her needs.
“Sure, I’ve had relationships in which bondage played a part! And some… well one was serious and… it hurt when it ended. But that was a long time ago. Since then it’s been one disappointment after another and nothing or no one has come along that really satisfies me. And the longer I go without it, the more intense my need becomes. That’s why I’m here! Do I do this all the time? No, you are my first mall meeting!” She smiled her disarming smile. “I just sensed something in your writing and then in our e-mailing that clicked with me!”
Anne nodded. “Yeah, me too! I would never do this… never have, but there was something about you…!” She let the sentence trail off.
Susan squeezed Anne’s hand. “We don’t have to decide this now. We’ve met. We can meet again. I’m not going to kidnap you… at least not tonight!” Anne looked up in alarm. “Just kidding, Anne! Look, why don’t we sleep on this and then get together again?” They agreed to meet for drinks and dinner the next weekend. They rose, hugged and departed, each in a different direction.
Anne felt a strange desire to cry as she watched Susan walk away. She wanted to call to her and tell her to come back, but she stopped herself with Susan’s name on her lips. Better to go easily and slowly the conservative repressed side of her counseled. Next week would come soon enough. Anne knew that was the way to go, but she was surprised to find an ache, a need for Susan beginning to flourish.
They met several more times over the next few weeks. Their comfort with each other increased and they became more at ease. Their first kiss after a night at the flicks only confirmed to Anne that she was falling for Susan. And every action by Susan confirmed that she too was enamored of Anne.
Finally, the ‘poop or get off the pot’ moment came. Susan invited Anne over to her house for dinner and Anne instinctively knew that this was the make or break moment. They hadn’t spoken about bondage since their first meeting, but that was the large gorilla always in the background.
They had a glass of wine in the kitchen as the food cooked and they small talked their way through an excellent dinner. With the dishes cleared and in the dishwasher, Susan suggested coffee in the living room.
Anne immediately spotted the coils of rope and the ball gag lying on the coffee table as she entered the room. She stopped abruptly when she saw them almost causing Susan to crash into her.
Susan set the tray down and stared at Anne with an intensity Anne had not seen before. Anne sank down onto the sofa, her heart pounding.
Susan stood over her. “Don’t you think it’s time?”
Anne looked up at her and knew it was! Her life was going to change and she was ready for it!
Anne stood and turned around, crossing my wrists behind her back. With a bravado she didn’t really feel, she challenged Susan. “OK, lets see what you got!”
Susan came around the table and quickly and tightly bound Anne’s wrists. She gently turned Anne around so that they were face to face. Anne was a nervous wreck; her fantasies were about to be realized and she was so afraid… and so turned on! Susan kissed Anne softly on the lips and hooked a finger into the waistband of Anne’s jeans.
“Oh, you’ll see what I got soon enough! But first I want to see what you have!”
She unsnapped Anne’s jeans, undid the zipper and began to slide them down over her hips.
continues in part two
|If you've enjoyed this story, please write to the author and let them know - they may write more!|