The sleek, lithe body moved beneath her, the other woman's skin satin-soft. Their lips met in a fierce kiss. Nails raked her shoulders as her lover clutched at her ... and then the hands were gone from her skin, somehow drawn up and cuffed to the bed without her knowing, and the body beneath her was writhing with even greater urgency, and a gasping, breathless voice was pleading for her to take them. Take them and make them hers. Take -
Bonnie started upright as the blare of morning news radio shattered her sleep.
"Ugh." She muttered to herself as she slapped the alarm, then yawned deeply, feeling the weight of fatigue settle into her bones. The brunette felt tired and lethargic and also - she blushed hotly at the half-remembered dream - mildly aroused. Well, what do you expect when you stay up half the night looking for porn on the internet?
Bonnie hadn't actually been looking for pornography - though she'd certainly found plenty of it - but for information about sexual fetishes. Hearing the timber of Joss's voice as she talked about Saffy had brought home just how private and personal the conversation had become. Joss was sharing some of the most intimate secrets of her life, and Bonnie couldn't even bring herself to tell the younger woman she was gay. Flushed with guilt, she'd hurriedly brought the subject to a close, turning instead to the safe subjects of work and their night at the museum. They'd talked for an hour about inconsequential things, before Bonnie had called it a night. She'd planned to walk home, but Joss would hear none of it, insisting on giving her a ride instead.
"We on for next Wednesday?" The question had been Joss's, tentative and unsure.
"Absolutely." Bonnie was emphatic. "The only Wednesday we're going to miss is the one just before Thanksgiving - I'll be in London."
"Oh yeah." Joss had chuckled. "With your gay boyfriend."
For a moment, Bonnie had thought Joss somehow knew about her and Andy's fake romance. Then she remembered their conversation from earlier in the night and managed a laugh. "I could do worse."
Once inside her apartment, Bonnie had poured herself a glass of wine and started up her computer. A high-speed internet connection was one of her few personal indulgences, and this seemed like the perfect time to use it. She was aware of the existence of fetishes like bondage – she dimly remembered Hope making giggling comments about handcuffs, back in high school – and had some vague idea of the kind of things that might be done. But what she didn't understand – and wanted to – was why people ... why Joss ... would do it. So she'd typed 'bondage fetish' into her web browser ... and then sighed at the thousands of links that were returned.
Bonnie wasn't surprised when many of them turned out to be commercial pornographic sites. Avenue Q was certainly right about that aspect of the internet.
"No." She'd grumbled as she closed yet another such page and tried not to think about what her browsing history would look like to her service provider. "I'm not interested in your low, low rate of nine ninety five a month." Even though some of those women were very hot indeed.
Of those links that weren't outright pornography, most were still overwhelmingly sexual in their focus, providing either fantasy material, or 'how to' primers for those with an interest in the subject.
Eventually, frustration and weariness had won out over her desire to understand Joss's sexual preferences. She'd nervously bookmarked a few pages that seemed promising, hiding them in the "Women's Health" folder with her AfterEllen link. Pathetic. It's not like anyone else even uses this computer.
Then, since she had the link in front of her, she'd spent fifteen minutes surfing the well-known lesbian website. They'd just posted new pictures of Kim in action; something they'd been doing pretty much every week since her high school crush had come out of the closet. Tired and frustrated, Bonnie clicked through them more quickly than she normally would. All the usual shots were there: two of Kim's dramatic entrance; several of Kim beating on the villain – it was some guy in a kilt, this time; one of Ron with his pants falling down – Bonnie still wasn't sure how he and Kim had managed to remain friends, especially after their romance ended; a couple of Kim and Shego embracing after it was over; several of Kim signing autographs for a crowd of admiring lesbians; and two of Shego chasing off the ones who were a little too admiring.
What was unusual was Bonnie's reaction to the pictures. Or rather; her lack of one. Certainly, she still noticed that Kim was an attractive woman – especially when she was glowing from the exertion of the fight – but no more than she noticed Shego's beauty, or the beauty of the overly enthusiastic blonde who in one shot was clearly asking Kim to sign her (regrettably pixilated) breasts. The sweaty hands, the gnawing in her stomach, the tightness in her groin ... in other words, all the things she usually experienced when she saw Kim ... were gone, or so muted as to be undetectable. Maybe I'm finally getting over her. Or maybe I'm just too tired to be turned on.
Though given her dreams, the latter option now seemed unlikely.
Bonnie dragged her way through breakfast and a shower, then dressed and tried to do some marking. When she realized she'd spent ten minutes staring at the second page of an essay entitled 'Brecht on Brecht: Applying Rational Self-Reflection to the Theory of Epic Theater' without reading a word, she sighed and set the paper aside. Nine fifteen. Joss's first class is at ten.
Leaning across the couch, she picked up her cell phone from the coffee table, and selected the first entry in speed dial. The phone rang four times, and the brunette was just readying herself to leave a message when the call was picked up.
"Hi Bonnie." Joss's greeting was restrained, lacking its usual ebullience.
"Hey." The former cheerleader deliberately kept her tone relaxed. "Just wanted to wish you a 'Happy Halloween'. Figured I'd call now since we've both got classes later, and then you're heading out of town."
"Oh. Thanks." The tension disappeared from the other woman's voice. "You have a great Halloween too. Don't eat too much candy."
Bonnie laughed. "Uh huh. Look who's talking."
"I've got an unusually fast metabolism." Joss affected an air of wounded dignity. "I need a lot of carbs to keep me going. It's a medical fact."
"Yeah, well just make sure your fast metabolism doesn't give itself a stomach ache." Bonnie warned. "I doubt Reba wants to spend tomorrow night holding your hair for you."
"That's definitely not on the list of activities." The younger woman agreed. She paused, then added quietly. "Thanks for calling, Bonnie."
"No problem. Drive safe."
"I will." Joss's eye-roll was audible.
"I can tell you're just humoring me." Bonnie admonished, laughingly. "See you in the canteen on Monday."
"Wouldn't miss it. See ya then."
"Bye."
Bonnie ended the call, then leaned back into the couch and gave a wistful look at the computer. She'd much rather be doing research of her own than reading her students' half-hearted efforts. But these papers won't mark themselves.
It wasn't until the weekend that Bonnie managed to get back to the computer. She'd marked all day on Thursday, then Friday had been occupied with taking three classes – all packed with students more interested in the weekend than in work – and dodging Lorraine at the cafeteria during lunch. Friday night had seen a parade of trick-or-treaters at her door, and she hadn't wanted any of them to catch an eyeful of something they shouldn't. There were definitely more of them than the year before. Obviously the kids tell each other about the best places to get candy.
Unfortunately, the links she'd bookmarked were a disappointment. The brunette sighed in frustration as the last of them proved no more helpful than the ones she'd already dismissed. Taking a drink of orange juice, she glowered at the screen.
"I'm not interested in the best knots to bind my submissive." She informed the lurid web page. "I just want to understand why someone would want to be tied up to begin with."
So maybe that's what I should be searching for. Now that she thought of it, it seemed so obvious that it was hard to believe she hadn't thought of it earlier. Trying not to expect too much, she punched 'understanding submission' into her search engine. A series of links popped up, and she opened the first.
"This looks more like it." It was an essay of some kind, describing the types of submissives, their general motivations and needs, and the role of the dominant in providing for those needs. It had been written by a man, and spoke in terms of a male dominant and female submissive. Would gender should matter? I guess not.
"'The dominant is the source of the trust and feeling of safety the submissive requires for her needs to be met,'" she read "'and is responsible for the submissive's well-being.'" That seemed encouraging. Not only did the first part reflect some of what Joss had said, but the second statement made her feel more comfortable about the motives and behavior of Joss's partners in her activities. I know she's done this with Saffy ... probably with Reba too. I wonder if there have been any others?
There were a series of links on the left of the page. Glancing at them, Bonnie realized that the essay was part of a larger site. She clicked on the 'main page'.
"'The primary purpose of this site is not to discuss the how of BDSM –'" she'd seen the acronym often enough by now to be familiar with it "'- but rather the why.' Well hallelujah. I might have actually found what I'm looking for."
Bookmarking the page – and boldly doing so in her main links folder – Bonnie scanned the table of contents on the main page.
"'Motivations'. That sounds like a good place to start." She clicked the link, and then stared in surprise at the long list that immediately displayed. She scrolled down, seeing several screens of text and dozens of links to other pages. "Woah. I guess this is more complicated than I realized."
The brunette sighed and leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms above her head to loosen the tension in her back. I'll read through them, and see if any sound like what Joss was saying. Hopefully something will. I don't think I'm ready to ask her to explain.
On Monday morning, the university cafeteria was filled with students and the scent of overripe pumpkin. The Halloween decorations may have been removed, but their odor lingered on.
"Hey." Joss dropped into the chair opposite Bonnie and gave her a tired smile. From the dark smudges under the shorter woman's eyes, it seemed that sleep had not been a major component of her weekend. Unusually, she didn't have a breakfast tray with her.
"Hey yourself." Bonnie raised her coffee – a once-a-week concession to the back to work blues – in greeting. "So did you and Reba have a good Halloween?"
"Oh ... yeah. Sure. It was pretty good." Joss's tone was off-hand, but her body language immediately became tense, and her eyes slid away, no longer meeting Bonnie's. The former cheerleader frowned. The younger woman was clearly uncomfortable about something. For a moment, the theater lecturer considered letting it go. No. Ask. The worst she can do is tell you to mind your own business. She set down her coffee and leaned forward.
"Did something happen?"
"What?" Joss glanced up momentarily, her look of surprise seemingly genuine, but she just as quickly dropped her eyes again. "What do you mean, 'did something happen'?"
"Between you and Reba." Bonnie replied gently, reaching across the table to rest her fingers on Joss's arm. Her mind raced, but kept coming back to the same idea. "Did she ... do something you didn't want?" Bonnie glanced around and lowered her voice. "Something sexual, I mean."
"Huh?" Joss's head shot up, and it was clear that the Montanan was completely shocked by the question. She vigorously shook her head. "Jeez. No. Of course she didn't."
"Sorry." The older woman held up her hands. "I didn't mean to suggest ..." she trailed off, realizing that there was no good way to end that sentence. "You just looked upset when I asked about your weekend. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I'm fine." Joss insisted. Then she sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "It's just ... Reba asked me to move in with her."
Author's Note: Yes, I am familiar with the U-Haul joke. No, I don't plan to use it in this story.
The website Bonnie finds in the story is a real one. It's actually the first link that comes up when I use 'understanding submission' as a search criteria on an Australian-focused search engine. For those of you from other countries who want to check it out, try 'peter masters understanding submission' and you ought to get it. I haven't read the site exhaustively, myself – just enough to spot the couple of quotes that Bonnie reads out, really. So I make no claims about the site's completeness or accuracy, in general. It just suited the needs of this chapter :-)