A/N: I AM NOT DOING THE TAMPON SEX SCENE. and how on earth did Christian have sex with Anna in the bath and keep his shirt on?

I'm lounging around my dorm room, debating if I could borrow some of the clothing from 'my closet' at Carmilla's place for work. I want to look professional, and outside of a few nice dresses, I'm a tee shirt and jeans kind of girl.

I hear a beeping from my computer and I see it's my dad. On Skype. I accept his call and sit in front of the webcam.

"Laura - are you feeling ok? You look at bit flushed."

"Dad, I'm fine."

"Well your dress is lovely, dear."

"Oh, thanks. This is Betty's dress. You like it?"

His frown deepens.

"Why are you wearing Betty's dress?"

"Well I like this one and she doesn't," I improvise quickly. "So she gave it to me."

He regards me shrewdly.

"Do you need money for shopping?" he asks.

"Oh, Dad, you don't need to do that. I have plenty of clothes."

"If you say so. You're not wearing more dresses to impress your lady-friend, are you?" Have I? I try to not blush as I realize that actually, wearing dresses and skirts have made it easier for us to have sex.

"No?" I say, my voice raising up an octave.

"Don't put on some facade just to make your partner happy. You both will be miserable if you do."

"I know, Dad. Oh, I had two interviews for my Journalism internship." I said, and we talked about the magazine and the local channel news. He seemed proud of me and I beamed at that. Before too long, he had to go and we said our goodbyes.

"You just take care of yourself, okay?"

"I am, dad. I just... so uncertain with Carmilla."

"Laura, you sound kind of lost. I mean, I've always believed you were so sure of yourself; you were adamant when came out to me back in middle school, and you've never brought a guy or girl home. I even thought something might develop with that girl you met in college, Danny."

"Dad, Danny's just a friend."

"I know, sweetheart. But something's up, and I don't think you're telling me everything." He gazes at me through the webcam, and I can feel his concern in that one look.

"I just needed some distance from Carmilla to get my thoughts straight... that's all. So I'm kind of glad she's gone this weekend, because she tends to overwhelm me."

"Overwhelm?"

"Yeah. I mean, I do miss her though." I frown.

I have not heard from Carmilla yet. No emails, nothing. I am tempted to call her to see if she's okay. My worst fear is that she's been in some car accident, my second worst fear is that Mrs. Robinson is back and has sunk her evil, child-molesting, Dominatrix claws into her again. I know it's irrational, but where she's concerned, I seem to have lost all sense of perspective.

"It's perfectly understandable to miss someone you're dating, Laura." He looks down the screen. "Oh, is that the time? We'll have to continue this later, sweetheart."

"Bye dad."

Later when I'm in the shower, cooling under the lukewarm water, I reflect on how much my father has changed. He seems happier, and oddly he's got good advice for me about women. When did that start happening?

Since I met Carmilla. Why is that?

When I'm done, I dry myself quickly, keen to talk to Carmilla. There's an email waiting for me, which makes me happier than I should be.

Trying to impress and convince jewelry executives to take a risk and invest in lab-created stones is dreadfully dull. At least I could employ my feminine wiles as I was wearing a few thousand dollars' worth of shiny stones to impress them. Men are so easy to distract with shiny things, you'd confuse them for nifflers. How was your day, sweetness?

Carmilla Karnstein

I gorged on some amazing Thai food last night. Oh, and I think I nailed the interviews yesterday and now I'm wondering if I ought to raid the closet in my room at your place for work clothes so I can look the part.

Your Laura

My Laura? I think I like the sound of that. I haven't had decent Thai in ages.

And, of course, feel free to plunder through your closet. Just avoid any skeletons in there.

Carmilla Karnstein

Dinner was spicy and filling - I'm sure you'll be very pleased to hear, I ate far too much; this dress is ready to burst I think.

What sort of skeletons do you have in there, Ms. Karnstein?

Laura

Are you being deliberately obtuse, or are you skilled in the double entendre? I'd think you just asked me to unzip your dress.

I am glad to hear you are eating. And any skeletons I have in there are my own. Besides, I've had their jaws wired shut so that they can't tell any tales.

Carmilla Karnstein

I would never be unwittingly obtuse, Ms. Karnstein. But there's no zipper on the dress I'm wearing right now.

Surely you can figure out how to strip me naked without aid of a zipper ;-)

Laura

It seems that I have a concupiscent effect on you.

I very much look forward to the next time I strip you naked.

Carmilla Karnstein

Have you been playing with the thesaurus again?

Laura

You know me so well Miss Hollis. I've been fingering my way through one until it called 'red'.

I am having a late lunch with an old friend now so I will be driving.

Until later, sweetness.

Carmilla Karnstein

Which old friend? I didn't think Carmilla had any old friends, except... her. I frown at the screen. Why does she have to still see her?! Searing, green, bilious jealousy courses through me unexpectedly. I want to hit something, preferably whoever this Mrs. Robinson is.

I feel like I should respond to her email, but I'm suddenly too angry. Why can't she see her for what she is - a child molester! I close my email, seething, staring into the darkness. How dare she? How dare she pick on a vulnerable adolescent? Is she still doing it? Why did they stop? Various scenarios filter through my mind: had she had enough? Then why is she still friends with her? Is she married? Divorced? Jeez - does she have children of her own? I'm shocked and nauseous at the thought.

I struggle out of bed and open the web browser on my laptop. I am on a mission. I drum my fingers impatiently waiting for the blue screen to appear. I hit Google images and enter 'Carmilla Karnstein' into the search engine. The screen is suddenly littered with images of Carmilla: in fancy ball gowns, femme suits, even one with her in a white tank top, leather pants, and a flannel shirt tied around her waist. Boy she looks good.

I quickly move on: some with business associates, then a series of expert portraits of the most photogenic woman I know, intimately. Do I know Carmilla intimately? I know her sexually, and I figure there's a lot more to discover there. I know she can be moody, flirty, funny, cold, warm... just like any other woman. I click to the next page of photos, idly wondering if this makes me a stalker. She's still on her own in all these photographs, and I remember Betty mentioning that she couldn't find any photographs of her with a guy, prompting her gay question. Then, on the third page, there's a picture of me with her at Silas.

Dad's going to kill me, I'm on Google! I stare at us together. I look surprised by the camera, nervous, off balance. This was just before I agreed to try submitting to her. For her part, Carmilla looks impossibly gorgeous; calm, collected, and her eyes seem to sparkle. I gaze at her, and that beautiful face could be staring at Mrs. Fucking Robinson right now. I save the picture in my favorites and click through all eighteen screens... nothing. I won't find Mrs. Robinson on Google. But I have to know if she's with her. I type a quick email to Carmilla.

I hope you and your friend had a very pleasant lunch.

Laura

P.S.: Was it Mrs. Robinson?

I press send and pace around my dorm room, resolved to ask Carmilla about her relationship with that woman. Part of me is desperate to know more, and another part wants to forget she ever told me. And my period has started, so I take some medicine for the cramping. I check my phone yet again before setting it aside on the bedside table, I lie down and pull up a Johnlock fic I had bookmarked earlier, wishing that we were in the same city, not over a thousand miles apart.

I have been trying surreptitiously to check emails all day. Finally - a response from Carmilla!

No, I did not meet with Mrs. Robinson. I hung out with a guy I knew back in college. Besides, she is just an old friend, Laura.

Looking forward to seeing you again. I miss you.

Carmilla Karnstein

She wasn't having dinner with her, but still defends her? My scalp prickles as adrenaline and fury lance through my body, because I cannot understand that evil bitch.

She's not just an old friend.

Has she found another adolescent girl to sink her teeth into?

Did you get too old for her, once you had your drivers license and weren't dependent on her for transportation?

Is that the reason your relationship finished?

Laura

I press send as Danny comes in.

"Hey Laura, you're... pale. What's happened?"

I shake my head.

"Nothing. What's up?"

"Lou's has life sized Jenga and Connect Four now."

I perk up slightly at that.

"Let's go have a drink," I suggest as we leave.

Her brow furrows, glancing between me and my phone. I shrug and she lets it go.

I'm reserving the Jenga tower as Danny gets us margaritas. I feel my phone vibrate so I answer it, expecting it to be one of the jobs I interviewed for.

Shit it's Carmilla.

"Our sexual relationship was over long ago, Laura," she says. "I don't want anyone but you. Haven't you worked that out yet?"

I blink at that revelation. I actually hadn't.

"Well I think of her as a child molester, Carmilla." I hold my breath waiting for her reaction.

Carmilla's silence tells volumes.

"That's very judgmental. It... wasn't like that," she whispers. Was she ashamed?

"Oh, how was it then?" I ask, noticing an edge to my voice. "Explain how statutory rape is okay."

"It was different back then-" I cut her off.

"-she took advantage of a vulnerable seventeen-year-old girl. If Mrs. Robinson was a Mr. Robinson, tempting you into a kinky, BDSM lifestyle, that would have been okay? If it was me?"

I can hear her gasp in shock.

"Laura, it wasn't like that!"

"Then what was it like?"

"Well, it didn't feel like that to me," she continues quietly. "She was good; she saved me. She gave me what I needed."

"I don't understand." I'm bewildered.

"Laura, I'm not comfortable talking about this now. Maybe later."

"I'm just trying to understand. I was worried that you had dinner with her. Think about how you were when I hung out with Danny. She's a good friend, but I have never had a sexual relationship with her. Which, full disclosure, I'm hanging out with her now playing life-size Jenga. But you and your Mrs. Robinson," I trail off, unwilling to finish the statement.

"Well, Danny tried to take advantage of you when you were drunk and couldn't consent, so that's different. Are you jealous of her?" She asked unexpectedly.

I huffed, exasperated. I don't care that she doesn't like jealousy, this is wrong. "Yes I am jealous, and I'm angry about what she did to you."

"Laura, she helped me, that's all I'll say about that. And as for your jealousy, I am trying hard to figure out exactly what insecurity you are having about us that is making you lash out at someone in my distant past. I won't apologize for you not being my first, if that's what this is about. And besides, I didn't go and see Mrs. Robinson, and even if I did, it's not to purposely insult or offend you. She was also a friend and business partner."

Business partner? Well, this is news.

"Business partner?" I ask, hoping I heard her wrong.

"Yes, we're business partners. The sex is over between us. It has been for ages." Maybe I am being insecure over this.

"Why did your relationship finish?"

The phone went silent, and I couldn't even hear her breathe. "I got scarred up; I wasn't perfect in her eyes anymore."

I don't know what to say to that. I think you're absolutely stunning. I recall how she never took her top off and didn't want to be touched there.

Carmilla speaks up again, and she sounds... vulnerable. "Can we talk about this some other time - in person?"

"Um, yeah, but I don't think you'll ever convince me that she's not some kind of pedophile."

She huffs in frustration, and I can tell she's getting annoyed. "Well I don't think of her that way. That alone should be enough." she snaps.

I realized I was losing this discussion like it were an argument, so I asked the one thing that I needed to know the answer of. "Did you love her?"

Danny returns, two margaritas on the rocks, both with salt on the rims. "You would not believe the wait line in there."

I plaster a fake smile on my face as Danny sees that I'm on the phone. She mumbles an apology.

I wait for Carmilla's response. What is she thinking? Did she love her? I think if she did, I will lose it, big time.

"Laura, I think I should leave you to enjoy your evening. We'll talk later." The call ended.

Danny gave a small smile as she saw that I was upset.

"Was that Ms. Money-bags?"

I scoff at that. "Yeah, it was. She's in New York on business this weekend."

"You really like her, don't you?" I really don't want to admit the whole Mrs. Robinson thing to her, though.

I nod. "And I was hung up on the idea she was having lunch with an old ex of hers." She never did tell me who it was, though.

"Wow," she mutters. "Laura, you seem really hung up on this girl. Jealousy is a normal reaction, if that's what this is, then the best way to sort through this is to talk with her."

"Yeah I know but I don't want to come across as some sort of harpy or insecure girl who wants to put a homing chip or giant sign that says 'Do Not Touch'."

"Laura, you've always over-analyzed things to death. Just talking to her isn't the same as putting a homing chip in her like... scientists tag dolphins to see their migration pattern."

I stare at my fingers.

"I think I'm in love with her," I mutter. I can't even look up at her as I say this.

Danny takes a long sip of her drink, probably because of her feelings for me. "Well, it is a stereotype that in lesbian relationships, you bring a U-Haul on the third date. If you can avoid moving in, I think you'll be okay."

I chuckle at that, and the insecurity that Carmilla mentioned reared its ugly head. We both didn't want me moving in, just I'd have my own space there when I was over.

"I don't think she loves me."

"Laura, it's a little too soon for that, don't you think? I mean, I want you happy - but you're an adult now and something tells me that you don't want to ruin this by doing any of the common pitfalls when you date in High School. Just... be safe with her."

I want to roll my eyes at her. Jeez, thanks for the advice, Dad.

"Let's play some Jenga." I say.

"Thatta girl, Laura." She grins. Before too long, the Jenga stack gets so high I need to grab a chair to stand on in order to put my block in place. It looks ridiculous as my friend is head and shoulders above me and has to bend over low in order to check the base of the stack.

I get back to my dorm and look at my cell. Danny is right, I do need to talk with her. What time is it in New York? It has to be late in the evening, so she should be ready for bed, right?

I see her on skype and try to call her. She immediately picks up and waves, then points to her phone.

"I can call later."

She waves me off, pulling the phone away from her face for a moment. "No, it's cool, sweetness, let me finish up this conference call first."

I guess she must have taken a laptop or some sort of tablet with her as I see her still in her classy business suit chic, a black skirt suit with oxblood red pinstripes. I can't even see any collar from a blouse until she turns to face me completely and I notice the silky black camisole that made it look like she wasn't wearing anything under the jacket. She was definitely displaying her feminine wiles today.

She blinks at me as she grins, looking pleased to see me.

"All the redundancy plans failed?... And the cost?... " Carmilla chuffed in frustration. "Fuck... that was one expensive mistake... And George's team?"

I try to see the room around her. She's in some sort of suite, the furnishings here are ultra modern. Carmilla walks over to a dark wood unit and pulls open a door to reveal a mini-bar, helping herself to the vodka and pours it into a shaker with some cranberry juice.

I try to not listen into her conversation. She shakes her drink up well before pouring it into a small clear plastic cup. I can hear water running... is she filling a bath? I wonder as she ambles back into the room.

"Have Natalie send me the schematics. Stinson said she'd cracked the problem... "

Carmilla doesn't take her eyes off me as she unbuttons her jacket and I see the silky black camisole that seems to caress every curve of her torso, and I wind up biting my lip in desire.

"Well if their incentives are attractive enough... I think we should consider it. Get Sue to call. Tomorrow... Not too early, I might have a late night." She ends her call and stares at me, her face unreadable, and the silence stretches between us. Okay... my turn to talk.

"You didn't answer my question," I murmur.

"No. I didn't," she says quietly, her dark eyes wide and cautious.

"No, you didn't answer my question, or no you didn't love her?"

She turns her head and holds up a finger, and walks off the screen and I hear the water turn off. She returns with a knowing smirk on her face.

"Why are you asking this, cupcake?"

"I need to know."

She takes a deep breath.

"No. I didn't love her." She frowns at me, "I thought I did. I thought I knew what love was back then." She starts to take off her shoes and undoes her skirt.

I can't believe she's getting naked on the camera. I'm holding my breath. I try to focus on what she just said. How would I feel if she actually loved the witch?

"You're quite the green-eyed monster, sweetness. Who would have thought?"

"Are you making fun of me, Ms. Karnstein?" I reply playfully.

"I wouldn't dare." She shakes her head solemnly, but she has a wicked gleam in her eye as she lowers her skirt to the floor.

"Oh, I think you would, and I think you do - often."

Her phone buzzes, distracting us both, and she switches it off without glancing to see who it is. My breath hitches as she takes a step towards the camera wearing her sexy predatory look.

"I want to go take a bath, and I don't mind taking my tablet with me." She fills the screen so I can't see it, but I can tell by the way she's bending that she's removed her panties as well.

"Um, okay. I wouldn't mind you taking your tablet with you." I stammer, leaning towards my own camera in anticipation.

"But I don't want to be naked alone." She says coyly, feigning innocence. "So I'm glad you called."

She'll have to get naked for this, won't she? I'll have to get naked too?

"Um, I'm in a dorm room, so I don't have a tub that I can join you in. Also, it's that time of the month for me."

"Oh, okay. Then just get topless for me, since it means your breasts are going to be larger than normal."

I balk at that. "Oh my god, you're serious about this."

Carmilla's carefree facade dropped entirely. "Yeah, I'm really sensitive about what I'm about to show you and um, just the fact that I even told you about and the scars is me opening up in a way I haven't for a long time. You wanted to know why I don't want to be touched? I'm willing to at least show you."

Oh god, it's going to be bad.

"We can stop this if you want, you don't need this image in your-"

"-I really do want to know," I whisper as a defense.

"Well, if you do, then let's - please don't, um... don't react poorly."

I flush as I realize that it's going to be really, really bad.

"Let's go have a bath." She says flirtatiously. I realize she's trying to use sex here as a distraction, but I'm more okay with it now.

Biting my lip, I pull off my top and unbuckle my bra. She's already seen this before, but over Skype? This feels... well, naughty. I'm a bit turned on at this.

Tablet in hand, she lead me back into the first part of the bathroom, and I see behind her a wall-sized mirror above two glass sinks. Candles flicker to the side. Wow... she's done all this while on the phone. She dims the lights in the bathroom and I switch the lighting in my room to be somewhat similar.

"Do you have a hair tie?"

I blink at her, fish into my jeans pocket, and pull out a hair elastic.

"Put your hair up," she orders softly. I do as she asks.

"Look at you. You are so beautiful," she murmurs. "See how you feel, touch yourself as if I were there." I clasp my hands on myself, my palms against my belly. "Feel how soft your skin is."

Her voice is soft and low. I move my hands in a slow circle then up towards my breasts. "Feel how full your breasts are." I gasp as I cup my own breasts and squeeze then at her urging. I gently stroke my nipples with my thumbs over and over, remembering the first time she pinched them.

I moan between parted lips and arch my back at the memory. I watch in fascination at the wanton creature looking at me. Oh this feels good. I groan and close my eyes, no longer wanting to see that libidinous woman on my laptop falling apart under her own hands... my hands... feeling my skin as she would, experiencing how arousing it is - just her touch, and her calm, soft, commands.

"That's right, sweetness," she murmurs.

I guide my own hands down the sides of my body, past my waist to my hips, and graze over my pubic hair.

"Look at you shine," she whispers as I groan.

"Don't stop," she orders, her dark eyes watching me.

I rub myself. No. I want her, her to do it. It doesn't feel the same. I'm lost without her.

"Sweetness, you're off-camera now." I look at the screen and frown, wondering how to place the laptop to capture all of me.

"Sorry, let me um..." I chuckle, "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"I've already seen your goodies, you know." She said playfully.

"Hey, I'm not letting you off the hook either, Ms. Karnstein. I wanna see some boobies too you know."

She chuckles at that. "Okay, you can call me Carmilla at this point. Though I do enjoy hearing you call me Ms. Karnstein as a vanilla alternative to calling me Mistress privately in the play room."

I grin at that. "Deal... Mistress. Now less talking, more skin!"

She smiles sadly as she removes her top and unhooks her bra, and my mind can't completely piece together what I'm seeing at first. There is a trail of pock-marks, as if it were acne scars, spiraling around her torso just under her breasts. It could almost be seen as beautiful, I thought as I wished I could trail my fingers over the line of scars. Just above her left areola was the white mark I had seen before; the flesh looked like it had nearly melted in the shape of a cross.

She was burned.

Some sick bastard burned this beautiful girl, to the point where Mrs. Robinson no longer wanted her. Carmilla turned away from the camera and I saw striped scars across her back, reminding me of when that cadet got lashed with a whip on Starship Troopers.

She was whipped until she bled.

I had so many questions. How long ago did this happen? Who did this? Was this Mrs. Robinson's handiwork?

She turns back to face me, chin and face lowered in a very un-Carmilla way. I notice more small, round, white scars across her stomach and chest. They are not simple chicken pox scars, I muse absentmindedly. I was lost at what could pepper someone's flesh with so many tiny circular scars. A shotgun blast? Holy shit... they all are tiny burns.

Burns from what? I blanch at the realization, shock and revulsion coursing through me.

Either cigarettes, or some sort of shower of sparks from welding... This wasn't just kinky play gone bad, this was torture. Mrs. Robinson, her birth mother, who? Who did this to her? Maybe there's a reasonable explanation, and I'm over-reacting - nobody would ever do this to her on purpose...

And I realize Carmilla can see the look on my face.

"What?" Her face is wide-eyed with apprehension.

"Your scars," I whisper, uncertain what I can say at this point. "They're not from chicken pox."

I watch as in a split second she closes down, her stance changing from relaxed, calm, and at ease, to defensive - angry, even. She frowns, her face darkening, and her mouth presses into a thin, hard line. She climbs into the tub and covers her chest up with the bubbles.

"No, they're not," she snaps, but she does not elaborate further.

"Carmilla, I..." I am so sorry that someone did this to you.

"Don't look at me like that!" Her voice is colder and scolding, and I can tell she wants to scream at me that she doesn't want my pity.

I flush, chastened, and stare down at my fingers, and I know, I know that someone purposefully did this Carmilla. I feel sick.

"Did she do that?" I whisper before I can stop myself.

She says nothing, so I'm forced to look at her. She's glaring at me.

"She - Mrs. Robinson?! She's not an animal, Laura. Of course she didn't. I don't understand why you feel you have to demonize her."

She's laying in the bathtub, gloriously naked, covered in cute bubbles... and we're finally having this conversation. And I'm half-naked too - neither of us can really cover ourselves up now as we're baring everything to each other it seems.

"I guess I just wonder what you would be like if you hadn't met her. If she hadn't introduced you to your... um, lifestyle."

She sighs and looks to the ceiling, her jaw clenched with tension. As she gracefully submerges her head beneath the water, I wonder if I have made her upset.

Her head rises back out of the water and she stares impassively at me, her face unreadable, saying nothing. Again the silence stretches between us, but I hold my tongue. It's your turn Karnstein - I am not caving this time.

Carmilla and I stare at each other in the awkward silence, but I am not backing down. Eventually, after what seems like a minute, she shakes her head, and she smirks.

"I would probably have gone the way of my birth mother, had it not been for Mrs. Robinson."

Oh! I blink at her. Carmilla, a whore?

"She, um, loved me in a way I found... acceptable," her voice was distant.

What the hell does that mean?

"Acceptable?" I whisper.

"Yes." She stares intently at me. Her dark eyes hold an edge that makes me want to back down. "She saved me from a very different path in life that I was beginning to head down." She looked away, eyes unfocused as she relived a memory in her mind. "Saved me again when I got scarred up."

Oh no. My mouth dries as I digest her words. She gazes as me, her expression unfathomable. She's not going to tell me any more. Inside, I'm reeling - she sounds so full of self-loathing. And Mrs. Robinson loved her. Holy shit... does she still?

I feel like I've been kicked in the stomach.

"Does she still love you?" She shook her head ever so slowly.

"I don't think so, not with me looking like this now." She frowns as if she doesn't like the idea. "I keep telling you it was a long time ago. It's in the past. I couldn't change it even if I wanted to, which I don't. She saved me from myself." She's exasperated and pulls her wet hair behind her. "I've... never discussed this with anyone." She pauses, "And the only reason I'm talking about this now, to you, is because I want you to trust me."

"I do trust you, but I also want to know you better, and whenever I try to talk to you, you distract me. Usually with sex. There's so much I want to know."

Her eyes go from hurt to frustrated.

"Oh for pity's sake, Laura. What do you want to know? What do I have to do?" Her eyes blaze, and though she doesn't raise her voice, I know she's trying to use anger to hide her vulnerability. I even notice the use of my name and realize that this is serious.

"I'm just trying to understand, you're such an enigma. Unlike anyone I've met before. People who are dating should be willing to be open about themselves to each other."

"Gods below, is this the toll I must pay in order to date someone? No wonder people hire whores for physical satisfaction."

"Please don't be angry with me," I whisper, worried that she actually is upset with me.

"I am not angry with you, Laura. I'm just not used to this kind of talking - this... probing. The only person who did this was - " She stops and frowns.

"With her. Mrs. Robinson. You talked to her?" I prompt.

"Yes, I used to."

"What about?"

"Persistent aren't you?" she murmurs, a trace of irritation in her voice as the corner of her mouth rises slightly. "Life, the universe - our jobs. Laura, Mrs. Robinson and I go way back. We can discuss literally anything."

"Me?" I whisper.

"If we were still in contact, yeah." Dark eyes watch me carefully.

I bite my bottom lip, trying to curb the sudden rush of anger that surfaces.

"Why would you talk about me? You made me sign an NDA to promise I didn't out you as some sort of Dominatrix." I endeavor not to sound whiny and petulant, but I don't succeed. I know I should stop. I am pushing her too hard.

"Well, I've never met anyone like you, Laura."

"What does that mean? Just because I didn't automatically sign your paperwork, I didn't come from some submissive warehouse where you can order a demure size 4 brunette with a money-back guarantee?"

She shakes her head.

"That's not what I mean. But I need advice."

"And you would take advice from a Pedophile? Gee, I wonder how many gummi bears soaked in vodka it would take in order to get a girl to open up." I snap. The hold on my temper is more tentative than I thought.

"Laura - enough," she snaps back sternly, her eyes narrowing. "I have absolutely no sexual or romantic interest in her whatsoever. She's a friend and a business partner. That's all. We have a past, a shared history, which saved my life - but that side of our relationship is over."

And I know that's it. I've pushed her as far as I can tonight.

"Are you done?" she snaps.

"For now." I can hear a growl in her voice as she rolls her eyes.

"Fine, that's about as much as I can expect, I guess."

She takes a deep breath and visibly relaxes in front of me, like a great weight is lifted from her shoulders or something.

"Right - my turn," she mutters, and her glare turns steely, speculative. "What about the contract worries you?"

I flush. Oh, I hate the spotlight on me. I shake my head. Perhaps that's how she feels about my questions, she's not used to being challenged. The thought is revelatory, distracting, and unnerving.

I sigh, resigned.

"Well, what do you expect from our would-be arrangement? I don't think I can do it for an extended period of time. A whole weekend being someone I'm not." I flush and stare at my hands.

"Being someone you're not? You think that is what being submissive is?"

"You want me as your... slave, your floor mat."

"What on earth gave you that idea?"

"Well, I was doing my research on collar-me..."

Carmilla bit her lip as she tried to suppress her laughter. Part of me feels slightly offended at that.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"Yes, but in a good way," she says with a small smile. "That website is absolute shite."

"I don't think I could ever be a great slave or submissive from what I saw on there."

"You're not a great submissive," she says with a smile, her eyes dancing with humor. "But you're the perfect submissive for me."

I stare at her shocked, then I burst out laughing - and she joins me.

"Maybe I don't have a good teacher." I add.

She snorts.

"Maybe. I could be stricter with you, get you clicker-trained to come on command." She throws her head back in laughter and gives me an artful smile.

I swallow. Jeez, no. But at the same time, my muscles clench deliciously deep inside. Something about her having control of my orgasms turns me on. She's staring at me, gauging my reaction.

"'Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely' - Lord Acton. You keep me in check more than you know; I think your stubbornness makes me a better Dominant."

"I don't get it."

"Okay, was it that bad when I spanked you the first time?"

I gaze back at her, blinking. Was it that bad? I remember feeling confused by my reaction. It hurt, but not that much in retrospect. She's said over and over again it's more in my head. And if I were honest... it turned out to be hot.

"No, not really," I whisper.

"It's more the idea of it, right?" she prompts.

"I suppose. Feeling pleasure, when I'm not supposed to."

"I remember feeling the same. Takes a while to get your head around it. Then you realize that you like what you like and forget about how people call it wrong or a sin or whatever."

Holy hell. This was when she was a kid.

"You can always use your safe-word, Laura. Don't forget that. And, as long as you follow the rules when we're playing in the room, then it can work for us."

"Why do you need to control me?"

"Because it satisfies a need in me. Most submissives enjoy giving up their decision making for short periods of time to someone that they trust."

This I can understand. But something doesn't add up.

"But, here's the thing - one moment you say 'don't defy me', the next you say you like to be challenged. That's a very fine line to tread successfully."

She gazes at me for a moment, then frowns.

"I can kind of see that, but I think context is important in each situation. But you seem to be doing fine so far."

"But at what personal cost? I'm tied up in knots here."

"I like knots," she smirks.

"That's not what I meant!" I say in exasperation. "How is my stubbornness a good thing?"

"You make me have to prove myself and earn it. You're making me work at being good enough for you, Miss Hollis. I won't easily forget to be grateful for your submission and take you for granted." She looks at me through the webcam, and I can feel her eyes seducing me. "I think we've done enough talking for now."

She bites her lip and it ignites my own passion as I realize what she's doing to herself in the tub. "I think I'm going to have you touch yourself now," she whispers ever so quietly.

I gulp. "I can keep my panties on?"

She smiles and gives a shrug that means everything and nothing. "Sure. I just want you playing with your own clit on my direction as I frig myself in the tub."

"Okay." I gasp, unbuttoning my jeans and finding myself with my fingertip.

"Ready?" she breathes.

"Yes," I whisper, and she slowly lowers her chin as she looks at me, jaw dropping as I can tell she's slid into herself and I'm pressing down in a tight clockwise circle. She licks her lips as she knows I'm doing this for her, and I can hear the sloshing of water as she is pleasuring herself as well.

I groan, closing my eyes, and I revel in the sensation, hearing Carmilla pant in need as she and I were both seeking release together.

"Don't come until I allow you." she whispers.

"Oh..." I plead, turned on by the thought of being denied my orgasm.

Clasping the bedsheet, I throw my head back into my yellow pillow and clench my jaw as I know she's gazing at me. I look back at the screen, and I'm turned on at the sight of myself: topless, wanton, touching myself... and that I'm turning her on by doing this.

She's watching me. Her mouth open slightly, her breathing halted, stilted - her tongue between her teeth. She looks so needy, so... hot. She's wet and I see her bicep flex in a pattern that makes me think she's close to coming as well. She closes her eyes.

I close my eyes and let myself feel everything and hear her moaning as I let myself moan louder for her... all sensation... all consuming again. I can tell that I am close... I recognize this delicious tightening... quickening. And I can hear her own movements become more frantic... water sloshing everywhere, mirroring the building orgasm inside me... and I just don't care.

I love this woman. I love her passion, the effect I have on her. The effect she has on me. She is mine, and I am hers.

"Please, Mistress." I beg.

"That's right, sweetness," she breathes.

"May I come?"

"Not just yet."

I whimper and I hear her chuckle darkly at that, and it turns me on even more.

"Sadist." I say, changing the direction of my fingertips.

"Guilty as charged." Carmilla says, gasping as I hear her start to come and I see her close her eyes and throw her head back.

"Now, Laura!"

And I come, my orgasm ripping through me, a turbulent, passionate, explosion that devours me whole. And suddenly Carmilla's orgasm hits my ears and we're in that moment together, even though we're thousands of miles apart.

"Laura, darling!" she cries, and it's a wild invocation, stirring and touching the depths of my soul. Darling.

We lie staring at each other, dark eyes into brown, face to face, sated over skype. Naked. Open. Just looking and admiring each other.

"Do you want to go to sleep?" Carmilla asks, her voice soft. She is beautiful; her eyes are smoldering against the white tile and the flickering candlelight in the hotel bathtub.

"No. I'm not tired." I feel strangely energized. It's been so good to talk - I don't want to stop.

"What do you want to do?" she asks.

"Talk."

She smiles.

"About what?"

"Stuff."

"What stuff?"

"I don't know. You."

"What about me?"

"What's your favorite film?"

She grins.

"Today, it's 'Secretary'."

Her grin is infectious.

"I guess I'll have to go watch that sometime, Ms. Karnstein."

"I think you might enjoy it, Miss Hollis."

"So I am number seventeen."

She frowns at me not comprehending.

"Seventeen?"

"Number of women you've um... had sex with."

Her lips quirk up, her eyes shining with incredulity.

"Not exactly."

"You said fifteen," My confusion is obvious.

"I was referring to the number of women in my playroom. I thought that's what you meant. You didn't ask me how many women I'd had sex with."

"Oh." Holy shit... there's more... How I gape at her. "Vanilla?"

"No. You are my one vanilla conquest," she shakes her head, still grinning at me.

Why does she find this funny? And why am I grinning back at her like an idiot?

"I can't give you a number. I didn't put notches in the bedpost or anything, that would be gauche."

"What are we talking - tens, hundreds... thousands?" My eyes grow wilder as the numbers get larger.

"Tens. We're in the tens, for pity's sake. Definitely under a hundred." Under a hundred?

"All submissives?"

"Yeah, or bottoms, or slaves."

"Stop grinning at me," I scold her mildly, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

"I can't. You're funny."

"I'm funny. Okay." I say with mild sarcasm.

"This will shock you, cupcake. Ready?"

I nod, wide-eyed, still with the stupid grin on my face.

"All of them were submissives of some sort in training. There are places that one can go and... practice. Learn to do what I do, for a price," she says.

What?

"Oh." I blink at her.

"Yep, I've paid for professional submissives. It wasn't always sex, but sometimes the activities got as good as sex can be and it still wasn't considered 'intercourse'."

"I'm not certain how I feel about that," I mutter haughtily. "And you're right... I am shocked. And a bit upset that I can't shock you."

"What? You wore my underwear."

"Did that shock you?"

"Yes, of course." And then you went 'commando' to meet my brother."

"It seems I can only shock you in the underwear department."

"Actually, you told me you were a virgin. That's the biggest shock I've ever had."

"Wish I had a picture of your face then." I giggle.

"You let me work you over with a riding crop."

"And that shocked you?"

"I thought you would get scared and leave, so yeah."

I grin.

"Well, I may let you do it again."

"Oh, I should certainly hope so, Miss Hollis. Next weekend?"

"Okay," I agree, shyly.

"Okay?"

"Yes. I'll go to the Red Room of Pain again." She smirks at the nickname for her play room.

"Another thing that shocks me: you say my given name."

"That shocks you?"

"Well, the fact that I like it shocks me, actually."

"Carmilla."

She grins.

I grin and stifle a yawn at the same time.

"Am I boring you, Miss Hollis?" Her tone is sardonic.

"Never."

She blows me a kiss.

"Go to sleep," she commands, then ends the call.

And in this peaceful, quiet moment, as I close my eyes, I am spent and sated. In spite of all she's said, and what she hasn't said, I don't think I have ever been so happy.