Chapter Ten: Chrysalis
Rachel drove to work oblivious to the traffic, feeling relaxed. She wasn't worried about having trouble with her concentration, of splitting her attention between thoughts of Sara and her work responsibilities, and she thought she knew why: She realized that, in her mind, Sara had started out as an obsession, mostly sexual in nature, and had turned into an anxiety. It was the anxiety that had caused all the trouble. The turbulence generated by Rachel's own confusion, the uncertainty of how things would play out and the intensity of the emotion involved for both of them all combined into a tropical storm of stomach tightening anxiety, leaving the other important aspects of her life blown away like so much debris.
Now, the storm was gone and the weather constant. When her thoughts turned to Sara, there was no longer anxiety. No question of where or how she would see the girl; Sara would be home that night, and there the next morning. There was no anxiety about sex, they would enjoy it when and how they both felt like, there wasn't even any anxiety about suddenly sharing so much time and space together. Although Rachel still couldn't believe it, she continued to enjoy the girl's company, sometimes even longed for it, if she was being honest. For some reason, she liked the girl's frequent questions, flattered actually, by Sara's apparent admiration for her. She also adored the way the little ditz couldn't go five minutes without making a joke. It had never occurred to Rachel, before Sara at least, that she hardly ever laughed, at work or privately.
Indeed, all those anxieties were gone as Rachel relaxed into what she started to think of as a regular relationship. Like everyone else. “I have a girlfriend,” Rachel thought as she eased into the parking garage at TriGar plaza, “no big deal.”.
Mrs. Hart was smiling, more broadly than usual, when Rachel arrived at the office. She said “Good Morning, Ms. V., how are you today?” as she handed her boss a perfect cup of coffee.
“Fantastic Mrs. H,” Rachel chimed, “and you?”
“The same” she replied cheerfully.
Rachel half expected a question or comment about Sara from the motherly woman but none was forthcoming and Rachel got to work. It was a busy day, full of dealing with the fallout from yesterday's train wreck, literally. Rachel thrived under pressure, especially deadline pressure, and she was a master at organization. She drafted a chart prioritizing the various agencies involved with the information flow regarding the train derailment and then divided up communication responsibilities among her staff at the morning meeting. She spent most of the rest of the day facilitating between her people and the board, mostly making sure that all the most important hands were held and egos placated. She didn't have time to grab lunch, so Mrs. H. ordered sandwiches for Rachel and the staff. Every once in a while, she thought about dialing Sara's cell, for once actually hoping to to spend a just a few minutes distracted, but the girl had said that she would be in class all day. Besides, Rachel didn't want to appear “super co-dependent” either.
After lunch, Mrs. Hart came in. “Ms. V, I was just wondering if you might be able to do without me this Friday afternoon, Justin and I are going up to Davis to check out the campus this weekend and I thought I might get a head start on the Friday traffic out of the city.” She asked.
“I don't see why not.” Rachel answered, smiling, “In fact, I tell you what, if there are no emergencies looming over us by COB on Thursday, why not take the whole day?”. Rachel had always been pretty flexible with her staff, and went out of her way to acknowledge hard workers and level headed thinkers. This wasn't really due to kindness, something Rachel had always thought was equal parts virtue and weakness, but rather a wise management strategy. No matter how hard you worked, on the management level, it was the people under you, not the people over you, that determine if you will look good, or bad. Those fat-asses on the board may have thought of Rachel as a stereotypical cold, ruthless, corporate bitch, which she mostly was, but her staff thought of her as a good boss, even if none of them felt like they knew her personally. It was much the way soldiers can believe so strongly in a general they've never met face to face.
“That's great! Thanks Ms. V.” Hrs. Hart said, in response to the good news. “Justin is leaning towards majoring in art, the extra time may let us get in some museum visits in Sacramento.”.
“Oh joy, small talk.” Rachel was thinking when she heard a voice that sounded very much like her own say “Sara is thinking about majoring in art too.”.
“Wha...where the fuck did that come from,” Rachel thought in disbelief.
“Oh, great” Mrs. Hart responded, also a little surprised at the direction the conversation had taken, “What medium does she like to work in?”
“She paints, um, oil mostly.” Rachel's mouth was apparently now operating as an independent free-agent. “What ARE YOU DOING?!” part of her mind continued to scream at her.
“Andrew likes to paint too,” Mrs. Hart continued. “I do worry a bit about his employment prospects with a degree in Art though”.
The small talk continued for a few minutes, during which time, Rachel traitorous mouth had also managed to divulge that Sara was in her third year at UCLA and part of a sorority. Rachel got the impression that Mrs. H. was trying to suppress a laugh when she received that last tidbit.
Finally, mercifully, Mrs. Hart let Rachel off the hook by saying, “Well, I've taken up enough of your time dear, thanks again for Friday.”. She left the office, leaving Rachel with the seed of a headache behind her left eye.
“What is wrong with me?”, Rachel thought, “Pretty soon they're going to expect me to bring her to the goddamn Christmas party.”. The headache got worse when she realized that she had brought up Sara in response to Hrs. Hart talking about her son.
Rachel actually hadn't given their age difference much thought when the relationship had only consisted of the two of them but now that they had decided to let the world in on it, the nearly 20 year age difference between them suddenly confronted Rachel head on. That would be more of an issue for a lot of people than their sharing a gender.
Rachel pushed her concerns aside and returned to work. It turned out to be easier than she had expected. On a subconscious level, Rachel was afraid to over-analyze her relationship with the younger girl. All she knew was that, despite the frustration these new feelings sometimes caused her, she did not want them to end.
Rachel finished her work around 6:15. Mrs. Hart had already left and all she needed was to drop off some proofs she had approved at the printer's, she figured she'd be home in a little over an hour. She called Sara to let her know. The phone rang through to the machine. “Pick up if your home Kitten.” Rachel said, comfortable in the empty office.
After 15 seconds or so, the machine clicked off and she hear the girl say, “Hello? Hello?” She sounded out of breath.
“You know Kitten,” Rachel said, smiling and twirling the phone cord as she picture Sara running, wet, from the shower to grab the phone, “you can just pick up the phone without waiting for the machine. If it's for me, just take a message.”
“Oh, Ok.” Sara puffed, “When are you coming home?” She added quickly.
“Soon. I've got to drop something off at the printer then I'll be home. Should be just an hour or so.”
“That long,” Sara whined and then Rachel heard a little hissing sound like Sara was sucking air through her teeth.
“Aw, do you miss me already?” Rachel teased.
“I always miss you when you're not here Rach', but um, I'm sorry Rachel, I just really wish you were here right now.” again she heard the small, sharp hiss of Sara's breath.”
Rachel thought about Tab and the kitchen fire and was suddenly worried about the ditzy girl. “Are you alright, Sara?” Rachel asked seriously.
“Oh yeah, I'm fine.” Sara answered, her voice quavered a little bit.
“But...” Rachel said leadingly.
“Um, well, I got home around 5:00 and I was waiting for you when I decided to get on the internet.”Sara began.
“So...” Rachel said, getting exasperated.
“So, um, I sort of Googled those nipple clamp thingies I saw in the toy box” Sara said nervously.
“Uh-huh,” Rachel said, not sure where the girl was going with this.
“And there were these pictures, of, like, how to use them.” The girl rambled, still a little breathless.
“Go on,” Rachel said, suddenly keenly interested in the results of the girl's web research.
“Oh God Rach',” the girls suddenly moaned, “I'm wearing them now. Oh, they hurt Rachel, but when I pull on the chain, I get all tingly inside, Owwwww.”.
“Hold on one second please,” Rachel said mechanically. She dropped the phone and ran to the inner door, closing it. The office looked empty, but Rachel was taking no chances with this conversation. She ran back and picked up the phone, her other hand gripping the corner of her desk firmly.”
“Have you cum yet you little bitch?” She hissed into the phone. This elicited a fresh whine from Sara.
“Nooooo,” Sara cried, “I'm trying to wait for you, but, oh God, Rach' I feel so dirty right now.”
“You listen to me, horny bitch, don't you dare fucking cum! Do you understand me.” Rachel's hand was grinding away at the crotch of her suit pants.
“Oh, God,” Sara, whined again, “I understand Rachel. I'll try to be good, I'll wait for you to make me cum. Please hurry.”
“I'll be home in 30 minutes. Don't you fucking cum, slut!”. Rachel slammed down the phone, muttered “Fuck the printers” and moved with the greatest alacrity, that is to say, she hauled ass, to the elevator.
Rachel raced the Audi home as fast as she dared, driving like a kid that excelled at Grand Theft Auto. She made it home in 26 minutes, possibly a Southern California commute record. Rachel power walked to the elevators and waited for what seemed like weeks until a set of doors finally opened and she was able to begin the tortuously slow ride up to the 22d floor. By the time the doors slid open again, she felt like a sprinter in the blocks. She hurried to her apartment door and fumbled with the key until she finally managed to operate the lock. Part of her felt ridiculous for making such a rush, but when she got the door open, that sensation dissipated completely.
Sara was on her knees, between the entryway and the living room. She was wearing only her black dog collar, a pair of short, tight, gray sweat shorts with a logo across the ass, and a pair of gleaming stainless steel clips clamped down on her engorged nipples. She was rocking back on her haunches, her hands sliding across her tummy, inching toward the waist of her shorts. Rachel was instantly consumed by the lust that had been simmering in her belly since the phone call.
“Did you cum, you horny little bitch?” Rachel; demanded after slamming the door, “Don't lie to me, did you cum yet?!”
“No, Rachel, I was good.” Sara said, pleadingly.
“Were you bitch?” Rachel sneered, “Maybe you were, you look fit to pop right now.”
“Oh, it's these clamps.” Sarah moaned, by way of explanation, “oh, they hurt, but...but I've never felt anything like them.”. She hooked the chain connecting the clamps with her thumbs and pulled it away from her chest, thrusting her head back, eyes closed tightly.
Rachel noticed that the girl had only placed the two center clamps on her nipples; the other six clamps dangled uselessly from the long silvery chain. “We'll have to fix that,” Rachel thought.
“What do you want me to do to you bitch?” Rachel demanded with malice, grabbing hold of Sara's short, golden ponytail.
“Kiss me.” the girl said breathlessly.
“Kiss you?” Rachel replied, surprised at the request.
Sara focused her eyes on Rachel's and said “In about 5 seconds, I am going to beg you to do all sorts of nasty things to me, but first I need you to kiss me Rachel, please?”.
Rachel dropped the boss bitch routine for just a second and and caressed Sara's face gently. “So sweet” she murmured and kissed the girl, wet and slow, touching only her face with her hands. After the kiss broke, she looked in the girl's passionate, green eyes. “now what do you want me to do to you bitch?”
“I want you to hurt me.” The tiny blonde whined, “please?”
(“Say it.” her little voice insisted. She ignored it, but it was getting harder.)
End Chapter Ten:_____________________________________________________________________