I pouted as I stood in the doorway at Chatro and looked around. The very few patrons – no more than a dozen in all – were all immersed in their conversation. The self-obsessed bar flies had ignored my entrance.
I sauntered slowly through the lobby. I slipped out of my sable trimmed light top coat, which Césaire had bought me after my victory over Lisa. I snapped my fingers. The cloak room attendant looked at me but made no move to come to me. I glared back. After a moment's standoff, I realised that this nothing had no idea who I was, or how dangerous it was to cross me.
I tapped my foot. She leaned over the counter. She was an Amazon! She must have been six feet tall, and looked like she trained with weights every day. Of course, I’d run rings around the muscle-bound low-life in a fight. And she clearly was low-life – a subbie. No Domme, no seasoned fighter would ever stoop to being a cloak room attendant.
I’d deal with her easily. After all, I am Melissa Windeyer. It would be like a bull fight, with me as the toreador circling the bull – in this case the low-life cloak girl – darting in and out, inflicting pain and wearing her down till the she was exhausted. Then I’d close on the low-life, Amazon though she might be, and finish her off. I restrained myself from licking my lips. After all, Melissa Windeyer is a lady, first and always.
Then the Amazon looked at me again. Her eyes seemed to bore into me. I almost shivered. It would only take one lucky shot for her fist to plough into my stomach to wind me. For just a second I imagined her pressing me against the wall, one hand pinning my arms above my head, the other – a fist – pummelling my sensuous belly till my legs gave out. In min mind she let me go and I slumped to the floor. It was a horrid image, but even more horrid was the way that it ignited the fires inside me. My stomach churned with sudden lust.
I bit my lip hard. I couldn’t go there. Not after Ms Justeen had warned me against unnecessarily fighting women. By ‘unnecessary fights' she meant women who might stand up to me, women I might struggle to defeat. This Amazon was definitely one of those. She might get lucky. She might – just might- win. The thought of being totally at her mercy, of her pounding my stomach again and again, of her ripping my clothes off and – no! I couldn’t go there. I thought of icebergs and, with some difficulty, composed myself.
I shrugged my shoulders as if this girl was beneath me – as she so clearly was – and checked in my coat. I didn’t even bother to give her a withering look. She wasn’t worthy of my scorn.
I sauntered into the main bar, pausing to see and – more importantly – to be seen. After all, I was well worth seeing. My clingy, sky blue silk-look blouse shimmered in the half-light, showing off my generous curves. I’d matched it with a short, darker blue skirt, slit up the thigh to show my strong, shapely legs. A black belt with a silver buckle emphasised my full, sexy hips. As the skirt matched the blouse, so my black heels, also with a silver strap, matched my belt.
The silver bangles on my left wrist glittered as I walked toward the bar. Like the siren call of Greek legend, my bangles and my whole look ensnared anyone whose gaze alighted on me. Even in the almost empty bar, I was conscious of the admiring glances of the men and the jealous stares of the women who knew they’d never be able to compete with me.
”I haven’t seen you in ages,” Edward Pakenham greeted me with an affectionate kiss on the cheek and a firm but respectful hug.
“Oh I know! It’s been far too long!” I smiled warmly at Edward. I’d met him once before. H was one of Arthur Wellesley’s friends. He was rather more mature than most men in Arthur’s circle, in his bearing as well as his appearance. Slightly built but quite muscular with it, he had dark hair with just a hint of grey at his temples. I assumed he was about forty, or perhaps a little younger. Tonight he was dressed quite conservatively in a Brooke Brothers charcoal grey sports jacket over an open-necked cream shirt and dove grey pants.
He bought me a drink and we talked for a few moments. He put his hand gently on my hip, drawing me closer. I ‘stumbled’ against him and muttered an apology as he caught me. “These heels, Edward!” In my four-inch stilettos I was easily as tall at him.
He smiled, his blue eyes dancing in amusement. He wasn’t fooled. He knew I’d staged the stumble. He didn’t seem to care though and I certainly didn’t.
Edward kept his arm around my waist as we continued talking. Of course, I used all my best conversational skills – open questions, drawing him out to talk about some of his favorite topics such as opera, his work as an architect, sports and his family. I knew he was married but it was an open secret that he enjoyed the company of other women, and was generous to them.
I didn’t know nearly as much as Edward did about many topics and I admitted it, letting him play the sophisticated older man like a character in a Georgette Heyer novel. Note that I pretended to be a fool – Melissa Windeyer isn’t a fool for anyone – but I made sure to build up his ego, and of course he revelled in it, the way all men do.
The bar began to fill up as we continued our conversation. Chelle Prince came over. I’d never liked the trashy blonde. She certainly excelled in trashiness that night, in a low-cut, tight fitting white top that she was almost bursting out of, along with a short white skirt and platform heels. She looked like a hooker who worked a cheap tennis club.
I liked Chelle even less when she tried to muscle in on our conversation. She tried to pretend she knew more than she did about opera – Edward’s current topic. I exposed her ignorance with a couple of cutting questions. While she stood there red-faced, I cuddled up even closer to Edward and slipped my arm into his. We talked about Rigoletto, which was playing then at the Lyric, and about which I was sure Chelle knew nothing. I was right. I didn’t either, but I threw back some of what Edward had said to me, giving him enough feeds to keep talking himself and to leave Chelle floundering.
Edward stroked my arm. “I'm surprised, Melissa! I've never heard you talk about opera before. I didn't know you cared.”
“Most of the plots, just like Shakespeare, are a slice of life in the raw…adultery, violence, lust and revenge…just like Rigoletto itself. What’s not to like?” I smiled complacently, knowing I’d just scored over Chelle, who had no idea about opera or Shakespeare. But then, she wasn’t Melissa Windeyer. I rubbed her nose in it a moment later when I added, “Of course, it's a little harder to understand at first. You need to put in some effort.”
Chelle flushed even more. Keeping a gentle grip on Edward’s arm, I eased him around, slowly, turning away from her and shutting her out of the conversation. A moment later she flounced off with a face like thunder. I don’t even think Edward knew how I’d played him, though he certainly noticed how I’d finessed Chelle off the radar.
Edward tugged me closer, all but pulling me off my feet, squeezing me against him. I gave him a look of feigned indignation. “Impudent man!”
He laughed. “Brazen hussy!” he retorted in a good impression of an upper-class English accent, and kissed me full on the lips.
“I’m shocked, Sir!” I responded in kind. He laughed again and gave me a tighter squeeze and a second kiss. I didn’t bother to pretend any longer than I wasn’t enjoying it. The smile on my face gave me away.
“Do you go to the Lyric?” he asked, still holding me tight.
“I wish!” I paused, looking down at the floor, ready to dangling my lure in front of him. “I’d love to, but I don’t get much of a chance. Tickets are so expensive! All I can do is watch them on PBS.” I breathed in, just enough to swell my breasts against my blouse but not enough to be melodramatic, then sighed.
Edward took the bait of course, and offered to take me the following week. He even offered to take me to dinner as well. I accepted immediately, throwing my arms around his neck and kissing him enthusiastically, to show just how pleased I was. I was reeling my catch in.
Over his shoulder I caught sight of Chelle. She was red-faced and glaring at me and Edward but trying to mask her anger by talking to Kelsey Wilmott. I bit off a smirk. Chelle was reduced to chatting with a subbie gurl – as the trannies like to be called these days. Yes, Kelsey was cute. He – she? I wasn’t sure what the correct word was – wasn’t like Willie, and he was open about his kink. Compared to Edward though, he was very much a second prize as far as both Chelle and I were concerned.
Right now I'd won the first prize – Edward. I hugged him tight, pressing my body against his. He hugged me back even tighter and even offered to buy me dinner right then. I was on the point of agreeing, until he suggested we eat in a private booth. He even hinted at something after dinner – “something I know you’d like, Melissa” He cupped my ass in his hand as he said that. I smiled but gently removed his hand, carefully consoling him with another kiss and joking that the best things are worth waiting for He needed to learn that Melissa Windeyer’s favours can’t be bought with a drink, a dinner and the promise of opera tickets – not even by a rich, good-looking man like Edward Packenham. As for the ‘something more’, he’d get it – but only when I decided he’d earned it.
Edward and I continued to chat in the open bar, standing side by side and talking in one another’s ear as we scanned the room, people-watching. His arm was around my waist, his hand against my firm but still gently rounded tummy. His thumb and forefinger played with the piercing in my belly button, through my blouse, giving me ripples of pleasure.
Chelle was still with Kelsey. They were sitting so close together that for a moment I thought they were making out. I peered closely. They weren’t, even though their bodies were touching just like mine and Edward’s were. He was talking about opera again. I was out of my depth until seeing Chelle with the gurl reminded me of something clever to say. “Cherobino in The Marriage of Figaro is meant to be a young boy, just old enough for army service, but it’s a role traditionally played by a woman,” I said. “And Cherobino dresses up as a woman in the opera. Does that mean that cross-dressing was common back then? “
Edward smiled and kissed me again. “Clever girl!” Only too keen to show off his knowledge, he launched into a monologue about how males – counter tenors – were singing some of the traditional cross-dressing roles.
I looked across at Kelsey. Why was he wasting his time with Chelle? He was a cute gurl – he could really pass for a woman – and he never tried to trick people like that snake Willie. I could imagine him as a counter tenor, singing a female role and wowing the audience. He was that cute. What did he see in that subbie slut Chelle Prince, apart from big boobs and an outfit that was more suited to standing on a street corner than to Chatro?
Kelsey had never paid me due attention, never saying anything more than a polite hello. That was acceptable – though barely – when I thought he wasn't interested in women. But to see him now with that cheap nothing Chelle – yes, now they were necking, though it hadn’t progressed any further, yet. But how dare he prefer her over me! Kelsey needed to learn that Melissa Windeyer was a goddess, to be worshipped. But how was I going to teach him?
I was still talking with Edward, though it was more a case of letting him talk and just chiming in with an occasional comment to show I was listening, while I wracked my brains on how to make Kelsey pay me the homage I deserved.
Suddenly music boomed from the sound system, though it was early for dancing. It wasn’t the best of music either – the kind of thing suitable only for a low-class strip joint. Nevertheless, it got everyone’s attention. Edward’s head turned in that direction and so did mine. My eyes narrowed to slits and I felt myself redden with anger.
Chelle Prince wrapped her arms around the gleaming metal pole to the left of the dance floor – which was mostly used by Dommes who wanted to put their girls on display for punishment reasons – and began to dance in a way that she obviously thought was sexy, but which really just looked cheap and trashy. She was clearly jealous of me and was trying to attract everyone’s – and particularly Edward’s – attention. What was worse, it was working. Edward had stopped talking to me and was watching Chelle, as were most of the other people in the bar. I leaned in and pressed my breast firmly against his arm. He didn’t even notice. His attention was firmly fixed on the trashy little subbie slut.
I noticed Kelsey walking away from the sound system. The gurl was clearly in league with Chelle, and had maybe even put the idea in the subbie’s head. Why? I supposed Chelle must have led him on. Regardless of who had instigated it, Kelsey needed to be taught who was worthy of his attention, and his worship.
That would have to wait, however. Right then I had to stop their scheme. Edward was barely noticing me. He answered me only with grunts or single words, while his eyes followed Chelle’s every move. He still had his hand around my waist, but it was as though he was leaning his arm on the bar – like I was just part of the furniture.
The way he was staring so fixedly at Chelle, I had a suspicion his fascination was at least partly an act. I wouldn’t have put it past him to try to maneuver me into a confrontation with Chelle, but I couldn’t let that stop me. Clearly I had to put Chelle in her place. No way was I going to tolerate such disrespect, and certainly not from a little nothing like Chelle Prince. Ms Justeen had told me to avoid ‘unnecessary’ fights but clearly I had to put Chelle in her place. It was certainly necessary and it wouldn’t even be a real fight – just a scuffle and nothing more.
I downed my drink, strode over to the sound system and turned the music off. Spinning back to face Chelle, I called out, “No one wants to listen or watch you, you pole dancing slut!”
Chelle hissed at me, but she kept a smile – more of a smirk on her face as she peeled herself off the pole and strutted over to me. “I am not definitely not a slut, missy! You need to learn some manners, Melissa!” She swung her arm out, aiming a quick slap at my cheek.
I seized her wrist to block the slap, twisted her arm hard and sent my other hand flying toward her cheek. “Uhh!” she gasped. “Let go!” She ducked under my slap and my hand sailed over her head, leaving me stretched out and off balance. I almost stumbled in my heels. I managed to deflect her return slap though, and stepped back, wanting to get my balance back before I attacked again.
I tried to yank on her wrist to pull her into me, but she lashed out at me first. Her nails scraped my cheek. I reached for her hair with my free hand, hoping to drag her down. She pivoted, my hand grabbed air not hair, and again I was stretched out, teetering in my heels. I might have fallen if I hadn’t still held her hand.
“You’ll be on your knees soon, Melissa!” she taunted me. I stepped back quickly and almost avoided Chelle’s up-swinging knee – almost but not quite. I groaned at the sudden pain in my belly.
I did my best to ignore it and jerked hard on her wrist as I stepped back. Now it was Chelle was tottering on her heels. The knee lift had unbalanced her and before she could recover, I yanked hard again. She was focused on her wrist, trying to break free of my grip, and she failed to block or even notice my other hand until it powered into her wide-open stomach.
She froze as my punch hit home, then her whole body shook. Her anguished “Noooo!” was almost a moan as she stood hunched over, still shaking and breathing hard. She was in serious pain. I smiled. She would learn not to cross Melissa Windeyer!
She recovered enough to launch another slap at me. “I said let go!” I accepted the blow. It was light, with little force behind, intended just to make me let go and not to hurt me. I wasn’t going to give her her arm back though. Instead, while her free hand was still in mid-slap, I sent my fist plunging into her belly again.
Her long “aahhhhhhhhhh” told me how much air my punch had forced from her lungs. She hunched over, panting, but still she tugged on my wrist, jerking me closer, and swung her foot up again, aiming at my knee. “I said LET GO!!!”
I crouched quickly, so that Chelle’s kick struck the flesh of my thigh and not my knee. It hurt more than anything she’d done yet, but not enough to seriously affect my movement, and not enough to give her any advantage. She should have known better than to fight me, and she was about to learn just how stupid a decision that had been. I’d known better than to let go of her arm and I jerked on it hard while her foot was still in the air, to throw her off balance.
And I did. Her voice rose to a squeal as she realised her kick had failed. She stumbled forward, her left hand flung out to the side to try to steady herself. Of course, the silly little nothing left her body wide open and vulnerable – again. I aimed squarely at the centre of her belly and slammed a punch home, putting all my weight and strength behind it.
The fist did exactly what I expected. It hit hard and sank in deep – almost wrist deep. Chelle’s squeal was longer, louder and higher-pitched. She shuddered, staggered as her knees weakened, and almost fell. She shuffled backward, her left arm covering her shattered tummy. “Let…go!!!” she gasped.
Even a mindless fluff ball like Chelle should have known better than to plead with me, especially without first acknowledging my power. I closed on her, finally letting go of her wrist, only to grab her long blonde hair. I used that as a rope to jerk the shrieking slut toward me. Although both her arms were free, Chelle didn’t strike me. I saw to it that she had no time – but then, I am Melissa Windeyer.
I swiftly brought my damaged leg up – I needed to stand firm for this, especially since I was wearing heels. I aimed directly for Chelle’s stomach. “You thought I couldn’t fight.” My knee crashed into her gut. She groaned. “You were wrong!” My knee hit her again.
This time her squeal was even louder. She’d have doubled over if I hadn’t held her hair. As it was, she was bent over, staring at the ground. She staggered again, trying to retreat, both hands holding her stomach. She tried to kick out at me, first with her right foot and then with her left. ”Stay back!” she wheezed.
I easily dodged those desperate and badly aimed kicks. The fluff ball should have known she couldn’t hope to land any kind of blow while looking at the floor instead of her enemy. But then again, she was Chelle Prince and not Melissa Windeyer. Thinking wasn’t her strong point.
I thought I’d make it easier for her. I yanked her up by the hair, making her look at me. I fired a slap at her face with my other hand. Even though she turned her head to avoid the full force of the blow, it still shook her from top to toe. “You bitch!” she hissed. The fool should have saved her breath for some action. Instead she wasted energy abusing me, even while gasping like a fish out of water.
She tried to slow her breathing with a few deep gulps. She spun, sending a mule kick backward, aimed at my knee. Again she wasted her breath. “I’m not done yet!”
I smiled at her delusions. “"No, but you soon will be!" I crouched again, so her kick hit my thigh. It hurt, badly. That thigh was already sore. It would be badly bruised by morning. I suppressed a shiver. But success, near victory, is a wonderful pain relief. I fired my fist at her already damaged belly. “Suffer, slut!"
She groaned. Her eyelids fluttered. She chopped her arm upwards, trying to break my grip on her hair. She failed. She tried to spin around again, and again she failed. My grip on her hair was too tight to let her turn properly. She tried to kick at my knee again and this time she partly succeeded. The blow landed on my thigh once more. It hurt. It made me teeter in my heels; but the fight was almost over. Melissa Windeyer was cruising to another easy triumph.
I fired another punch at her gut. “You're going down!” And she was. She groaned loudly and slumped against me, draping her arms over my shoulders as she gasped for air. I sent two more punches squarely into her navel. She groaned louder and swayed in her heels, clinging to me for support.
I yanked at her hair, flinging her contemptuously to the floor. She lay there for a moment before she managed to wobble back to her hands and knees. Finally she crawled to a table, where she grabbed the edge and tried to haul herself up on it.
“Stupid girl! Stay down! You don’t know when you’re beaten!” I smirked as I yanked the blonde up by her hair. Despite my words, I was glad she was being such a little fool. I could have some fun with her.
I tossed her on the table. “You shouldn’t have worn such a flimsy outfit...missy.” I mocked her earlier insult as I ripped at her top.
“Stop! No! Stop…please!” Chelle squealed, writhing on the table. “Let me go! Somebody help!”
"Flimsy outfits like yours can be ripped so easily!” I sneered as I slapped her face again. This was so good. My tummy fluttered deliciously. I felt delightfully moist. My win had me quite aroused.
She squealed, writhed again, and yet again when I slapped her pretty face another time. I ripped her top open down the front and her breasts spilled out. She wasn’t wearing a bra. “Why are you protesting? You were about to strip anyway, dancing on that pole!” I laughed. “At least, you sure looked like you were! What’s the difference when I do it for you?”
“Yeah! Let’s see her boobs!” Someone from the crowd cheered me on. “She loves to show them off!”
“How’s this feel?” I sneered as I twisted Chelle’s nipple.
She screamed as she put her arms up to try to cover her breasts “No! Stop! You wouldn’t…please!” the little slut whined as I slapped her again, pushing her arms away.
“Don’t you believe it, Chelle!” I tugged at her panties, pulling them down to expose her crotch. I ignored her squeal of protest and stuck my fingers between her legs, exploring her folds. I soon had the little weakling moaning. I stroked her firmly, probing between her lower lips. I teased her, playing with her nipples, her pussy, stroking her thighs, her cheeks and kissing her till she was a moaning, mewling puddle of lust. I knew it. Secretly, Chelle wanted nothing better than to succumb to me, to accept my control, my dominance. Losing the fight had given her an excuse. Perhaps she'd even wanted to lose, though of course she would have anyway. I'm Melissa Windeyer and a nothing like Chelle Prince stood no chance against me
I looked around us at the crowd. “Look, Chelle…look at all these people, so eager to see me totally conquer you...to see me, Melissa Windeyer, triumph again…” I paused before I added with relish, “to see me own you!”
Then my face darkened. Edward wasn’t among the onlookers. He hadn't seen me triumph over the girl who had so bitchily distracted his attention away from me. It was neglect, pure and simple, but I couldn’t afford to show my rage.
I looked again at the crowd as I ran my hand up and down Chelle's thigh, teasing her more. There was Kelsey, at least, mouth open, avidly watching. He couldn't keep his eyes off me as I used the girl he’d been making out with, a few minutes before. I smiled at him. He would soon learn that I was the Goddess he should server – in whose temple he should worship. Chelle was nothing more than a graven image, as they used to say in Sunday School.
I trailed my finger into Chelle's folds, wiggling it, sliding it in, nail deep. I wiggled a little more. Chelle moaned and squirmed. The table rocked. “Slut!” I mocked her. “You can’t keep still!” I tugged at her hair, dragging her off the table, down to her knees. I slapped her lightly. “Don't pout at me girl! I’m only thinking of your safety! I don’t want you sliding off the table and hurting yourself.” I rubbed her inner thighs with the toe of my shoe, stroking up and down. She whimpered and squirmed at my touch, making doe eyes at me as I continued to tease her.
I looked over Chelle's shoulder to Kelsey. His face was flushed. He was panting. He caught my eye and for a few seconds, he tried to meet my stare as I continued to tease his fallen idol with my foot. Inevitably he flushed more, and looked down to where I was rubbing my toe against Chelle's mound. She whimpered again. Kelsey looked on as I eased my toe into Chelle's folds. Then, as Chelle rose up a little to kneel almost erect and pushed her panties all the way down, Kelsey looked away. He couldn't bear to watch her surrender.
“Ms Melissa…please…” Chelle's voice trembled and trailed off. She squirmed against my toes and shivered.
“Well, girl? Tell me what you want!” I pulled my foot away from her and tapped my toe on the floor. An idea formed in my head – a way to make not just Chelle worship me, but Kelsey too.
Chelle squirmed and mumbled. Of course, she was too ashamed to admit her need, to admit she needed to surrender to me. I wasn't going to make it easy for her. Oh no, she needed to acknowledge that I’d completely conquered her. She, along with Kelsey, needed to worship Melissa Windeyer as her Goddess. I had no time for halfhearted sluts who wouldn’t admit my power. Anyway, the best way to complete a conquest is to leave the victim needy, hungry for more. I patted Chelle's cheek, turned on my heel, leaving her there whimpering with disappointed lust, and picked up my purse which I'd left on a chair before the fight with Chelle.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My face glowed from the exertion – not to mention the exhilaration – of defeating Chelle. Perspiration made my silky top cling even more tightly to my body. I clicked my tongue in annoyance. I'd lost a couple of buttons in the fight, including the top button so my generous breasts were a little exposed. I'd also torn my blouse, and wouldn’t be able to wear it out again. It had been expensive too. My face was scratched and red blotches on my face and shoulders showed where I'd have bruises tomorrow. From the covert glances I was getting from the other girls in the bar though, scared I’d take their man, and from the admiring looks from the men, I know that I looked even more desirable than usual. I smiled. Victory does that for a girl.
My heels clicked on the tiles as I strutted over to Kelsey and stood in front of him. He looked away, past me to the still-kneeling Chelle. Her hands were squeezing her breasts in a vain attempt to conceal her shame. “So, Kelsey, you were helping Chelle before?” He stood mute, his face dark. He shook slightly. I tapped my foot impatiently. “What do you have to say for yourself...sweetie? I cupped the cutie's chin, making him look at me.
Even in jeans and a t-shirt, Kelsey could have passed for a woman. Tonight though, he wore a bright yellow peasant top, laced together in the front, and a light tan skirt with high heels. Very clean shaven, he wore just a touch of blusher and eye shadow. He also had a silver chain around his neck – a chain that would soon be spliced with a plate engraved, ‘Property of Ms Melissa Windeyer.’
Kelsey could have chosen to brush my hand away, or at least to try, but instead he looked at me. His eyes roved over my body and then, as I held his chin more tightly, at my face. “I have nothing to say to you!”
“But you have nothing to say to Chelle either now, do you?” I tapped my foot again. “Kelsey, you couldn’t keep your eyes off the fight…the fight where I totally destroyed Chelle.” I stared into his eyes. “That's what I did. Admit it, Kelsey!” Again I tapped my foot on the tiles. “You loved watching me dominate her. Admit it, Kelsey!” I have another tap of my foot. I held the cutie’s chin even tighter. "Chelle isn't in my class…not even close…is she? Look at her now, mewling with need. Admit it, Kelsey! She's a nothing!” I punctuated each sentence with a foot tap.
“I've got nothing to say to you, Melissa Windeyer!” repeated Kelsey, but his voice trembled. “Let me go.”
“Why would l let you go, sweetie?” I tapped my shoe. “Chelle asked me to let her go. Do you really think she meant it?” Again I punctuated each sentence with a tap of my heel. “Do you?” I nodded at Chelle, still kneeling and looking at me with pleading eyes. “Look at her, Kelsey. Look at Chelle, whimpering…” tap, “…mewling…” tap, “…needy…” Tap. Kelsey shivered again. “Do you really think she wanted me to let her go?” Tap. “Or do you think she wanted me…still wants me…to use her?” Tap. Kelsey buckled. His knees almost gave out. “After I beat her, physically and mentally, after she knelt to me…don’t you think she wants me to conquer her sexually too?”
Then Kelsey showed he had some backbone after all. He gritted his teeth and swatted my hand away from under his chin. “You only beat her because of that huge ass and body of yours…whore!”
He had a little backbone, but not much. He could have walked away. He could have shoved me back, but instead he stood there, waiting for me. I knew he wanted to be conquered, just like I'd conquered Chelle. I just had to play him right. “You’re a rude little thing!” I scolded him. “You deserve to be taught a lesson! I grabbed Kelsey’s long, light brown locks, dragging him toward me. I wanted to pull the brat off his feet. He'd be better behaved on his knees, and I knew that was where he wanted to be, in any case.
“Hey...hey!” he squealed in surprise. His hands grabbed at mine ineffectively. He stumbled forward. I yanked at his hair again and he lost his balance, falling onto his knees. He winced at the pain I'd inflicted in yanking his hair. Tightening my grip even more, I jerked him around, half dragging him onto his side. I walked a few paces to some chairs, pulling with along with me, arms flailing, legs kicking futilely. I sat down and yanked him up on to his knees again then seized him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him over my lap.
Kelsey's face paled and he whimpered. I knew that this was all too familiar to him. Another Mistress had wanted him hard between her thighs. He struggled, again to no effect. He could have escaped easily enough if he had wanted to, but instead he simply wiggled in my lap, arching his butt.
I rained slaps down on his cute butt, hard and fast on alternate cheeks. “You need to learn some manners, brat!" I giggled as I looked around the crowded room, with everyone watching me triumph over Chelle's erstwhile helper. "So did I win just cuz I’m big and fat?"
“OH!!! Oh fuck!” Kelsey squealed. His face turned red. He squirmed, his hands gripping my thighs. He tried to kick at me – yet he didn't try to roll off my lap, or to escape any other way. “Yes, you cow!” he hissed. “You won because you're big and fat!”
Really?” I said. Of course, his defiance didn’t surprise me. He wanted me to break him, and I knew just how to do it. Holding him tightly by the scruff of his neck, I fumbled in my purse. “Yes, that's it,” I muttered to myself, gripping my hair brush. I pulled it out and waved it in front of Kelsey. He whitened and for a moment he struggled to get out of my grip. I caught him as he rolled, squeezing my hand on the lymph nodes in his neck. He gasped, knowing how dangerous that grip was. But he still pushed his hands on my thighs as he tried to get up.
I wasn't having that. Instead I swung my other hand, now gripping the hair brush, against his butt. He yelped, then squealed again when I repeatedly spanked him with the brush, raining blows down on his butt cheeks. He squirmed but his struggles were weaker now. I pressed his neck down. His grip on my knees weakened too. I pushed him harder back into my lap.
I knew I'd won when I felt his hardening shaft pressing against my thigh. “How dare you, Kelsey?” I reprimanded him as I continued his punishment. “Look at Chelle! She's taller than me! And did I beat you because I’m bigger than you? No, Kelsey. You're taller and heavier than I am. I beat Chelle just like I beat you…because I’m Melissa Windeyer! I’m simply your superior.”
Kelsey squirmed on my lap. He shivered. “Cow…” he repeated, though weakly. I yanked the brat's hair and spanked his ass with the brush harder still.
“Stop!” he wailed. “Stop, stop! Please! That hurts so much, you bitch! Oh, my hair. Oh, my ass!” The weakling's eyes teared up.
I made him look at me as I lowered my voice. “Did I make Chelle – ” I slapped his ass with the bristles side of the brush. He bucked in my grasp. “ – needy cuz I’m big and fat?” I gave him another spank. Again he squirmed and bucked. He mumbled something. Another slap. “Speak up, gurl!”
Kelsey gritted his teeth. I could almost taste his internal struggle to keep his self-respect and his loyalty – for what it was worth – to that nothing Chelle, his futile attempt to resist my dominance, all fighting against his longing to surrender completely to my power. I gave him another swipe with the brush. “Did I make you...hard…cuz I'm big and fat?” Kelsey writhed on my lap. “Answer me, gurl!”
“No...no, bitch, no…not cuz you’re big and fat” he admitted, whimpering.
I rained down a few more slaps, then slipped my hand down, feeling between his thighs. “I know a better use for this,” I whispered as I gripped his cock.
He froze, then moaned as I tightened my grip slightly. I released him and went back to slapping his fast-reddening ass with my hair brush. He hadn’t moved. He hadn’t even tried. He just lay there, taking it.
My tummy fluttered again. Beating Chelle, exposing Chelle for the needy weakling she was, playing with her, had aroused me, just like winning always did. But playing with a trannie gurl was a new – and most exciting – experience. Yes, I thought to myself, spanking Kelsey, having this subbie gurl under my thumb, was high voltage stuff, and was sending little shocks of pleasure through my body.
“You silly boy.” I tilted his head up and kissed his lips. “Stop calling me names, Kelsey.” I kissed him harder. “You should be worshipping me instead.” This time my tongue forced its way into his mouth, momentarily. “Just like Chelle did ...in the end.”
I tugged his hair once more. “It won't take you as long though. I'm sure you're smart enough to learn from her example.” I let go of his hair and, sliding my right hand between my thighs, squeezed his shaft as I continued slapping him with my left. I cut off his further whimper with another kiss, my tongue plunging in and out of his mouth. He squirmed in my lap, twisting himself, but now only so he could return my kiss, which I broke to whisper, “Kelsey, are you leaking in your panties? Are you leaking for me?”
He sighed, blushed and squirmed. I kissed him again, plundering his sweet mouth, still raining slaps on him but mixing pain and pleasure now by stroking his cock too. My hands were stinging – his butt must have been infinitely more sore. I broke the kiss again. “Admit it…you want me, don’t you, sweet gurl.” I gazed into his eyes. I knew I was about to score another victory.
“Yes Ms…I’m leaking. I’m leaking for you,” Kelsey admitted almost tearfully. I dropped the brush on the table next to me and kept milking his cock. He panted softly, his eyes glazed as he blushed and squeaked softly, “Please, Ms Melissa, please take me.”
I knew I was only halfway there. I didn't want him begging and squirming just for now. Any needy subbie gurl would do that for Melissa Windeyer. No, I wanted Kelsey for keeps. I reminded myself that I wanted a plate inscribed ‘Property of Ms Melissa Windeyer; spliced into that silver chain around his neck. I was also profoundly aware that this new and electrifying experience was exciting me. Kelsey wasn’t the only one leaking. I thought of icebergs, white and vast, imagining them drifting in Lake Michigan. Only when I’d regained my composure did I proceed. Of course – and that was entirely within my plan – Kelsey had become even more needy during the short pause. I’d stopped stroking his cock, just holding it, feeling its hardness in my grip.
Kelsey moaned with excitement when I tugged his silk panties down at the back. The silly gurl thought he was about to get a good seeing to as my right hand was again busy, running up and down his shaft. I soon disappointed him. “No Kelsey, you don’t deserve Ms Melissa Windeyer, not yet...not now.”
He pouted and I thrust his head down so he couldn’t see what I was about to do. My left hand groped for the flickering candle on the table. ”You were rude to me, Kelsey.” I squeezed his shaft hard enough to make him moan needily again. “You were bratty…you were cheering for that little fluff ball Chelle.” I kept jerking him off as I snuffed out the candle between thumb and forefinger. “You said I had a big ass. You said I beat Chelle, not because I’m infinitely superior to that nobody, but because I’m big and fat.” All the while, milking his cock, I grabbed the candle by the base.
“Ms…I’m so...ARGGGHHH!!!” Kelsey’s scream, as I plunged the still-smouldering tip of the candle into his star, ramming almost the whole length of the hot candle up inside him, all but lifted the roof. Everyone watching jumped at the sound. But even as he screamed, his cock spasmed and he squirted semen. It escaped his panties and ran down my legs.
I giggled. “Some people have no self-control.” I shoved the candle deeper into his ass, and wiggled it about.
Kelsey screamed again. “Ms!...Ms!…Oh God, you’re splitting me in two! It’s…it’s burning inside…” He was almost in tears.
“Apologise, gurl,” I demanded, wiggling the candle some more.
“I’m sorry, Ms. I’m…I’m sorry I called you fat! I’m sorry, Ms…please!” Kelsey wailed.
I tugged the candle half way out, and cut off any more protests by bending and kissing him, thrusting my tongue in his open mouth. “That’s better, gurl! But it’s not enough!” I shook him out of my lap and pointed to his semen on my thighs. “You made such a mess!”
I didn’t even need to tell him what to do. He bent his head and began to lap up the mess on my left thigh. I stroked his hair. “That’s much better, gurl! You have a very industrious little tongue.“
He soon finished that thigh; I sat back in my chair, pushing my smooth, firm tummy forward. Kelsey started licking the other thigh. His hand slid upward, tracing a pattern around my stomach. It tickled pleasurably. His tongue lapped up my thigh, higher than on the other leg. His hand gently squeezed and kneaded my tummy. My stomach began to churn most delightfully – too delightfully. It would be so wrong for Kelsey to flip me or even to service me here. I reached for the hair brush and brought it down hard on first one ass cheek, then the other. Kelsey squealed both times. “But…Ms…”
“Enough, gurl,” I said pushing his head back from my thighs, tilting it up so he had to look at me.
“Ms Melissa…please! I want to! I want to serve you!” Kelsey implored me. His words made me shuuder. They were almost exactly the same as that two-faced snake Colleen had used when she’d pretended to worship me, right before she flipped me.
My face darkened with anger. I leaned forward. grasping the end of the candle which still protruded from Kelsey’s butt, and rammed it home. Kelsey’s agonized squeal echoed around the room. He squealed again when I spanked him with the brush. “I said ENOUGH, gurl!” I yanked him by his hair back onto my lap. I fucked his ass with the candle and spanked his butt cheeks hard, over and over.
“Learn fast, gurl! I…am…a…Goddess!” I punctuated each word with a slap of the brush/ “Goddesses like me…Goddesses and Dommes… make subbie sluts cum in public…like I just did to you. Subbie sluts like you, gurl, know when and where to worship their Goddess. Subbie sluts like you don’t even dream of making their Goddess cum in public!”
I rolled him off my lap again. I needed to. Even without his touch, I had difficulty in not shivering with my own arousal. My pussy was again so wet, I was worried about my juices leaking onto the seat. The combination of my victory, of the new experience of playing with a trannie this way, and above all the public display of my power and dominance over this gurl, was giving me the most delicious mini-orgasms.
It would be horrifyingly easy to let myself be pushed over the edge, though. I knew that only too well. There was no way I could allow this brat to flip me. It wasn’t likely of course, but I'm a healthy twenty-first century woman, and I have desires. I like sex. I’d heard something about how the great President Kennedy had said he got migraines if he didn’t have sex every few days. I was sure Kelsey would help me fend off migraines.
I looked down at him, kneeling patiently for me, his Goddess, waiting to do my will. He deserved some sign of favour, and it would help cement his adoration. After all, few women were as sexually adept as Melissa Windeyer. I pulled him a little closer. To my delight, he was already hard again. His erect cock brushed firmly against my leg.
I stood up and ruffled Kelsey's hair. I held his hand and led him through the crowd. The candle still sticking out of his ass was making his steps quite awkward and he'd have stumbled several times if I hadn’t supported him. I made sure we walked right past the naked, moaning Chelle, who was writhing on her back as yet another of the bar’s patrons used her.
Kelsey's sneer as he looked at his former idol told me he knew how wrong he'd been, to prefer the little blonde slut to me. His little shiver and tight grip on my arm told me he knew too, just how vulnerable he was now that I’d exposed him as a weak subbie gurl. He’d suffer the same fate as Chelle, if not for the protection of a powerful Goddess like me.
We reached a private booth and he stepped eagerly inside, before me. I reached down and shoved the candle into his butt again. He squealed.
“Learn some manners,” I snapped. “Ladies before gentlemen!” The gurl stood aside. I removed the candle from his butt. He moaned with relief. I entered the booth with him trailing meekly behind me, and drew the curtain shut behind us.
“Lie down and roll over! On your back, on the table, gurl!” I insisted. I pushed him down. He laid his butt on the edge of the table. I straddled him, my back to his face, reverse cowgirl style. I slid my panties aside and lowered myself onto his cock with a pleasurable moan. The gurl grabbed at my hips as I rode him, up and down, squeezing him with my inner muscles, milking him for my pleasure as I fingered my clit. He felt so good inside me.
It was only a few moments before I came hard – but quietly. I’d learned not to be what Ms Justeen had called a ‘noisy fuck’ even if I had to try hard to muzzle myself. As I came, I tensed my muscles tight around the gurl’s cock, setting off his own orgasm. As soon as he’d cum, I quickly raised myself up off his cock, turned around and shuffled on my knees until I knelt over his face. “Eat me out, gurl. Now you can serve your Goddess like you wanted, before.”
Kelsey was most obliging. His hands roamed over my sensuously curving stomach as he licked and caressed my inner folds and my clit. I leaned forward as the gurl’s skilled tongue evoked shudders of pleasure. I gripped his shoulders as my body was rocked by several more orgasms in quick succession. At last he broke off for breath and the jolts subsided. I leaned and kissed him on the lips, tasting my own juices. I lay down beside him on the table, cuddling him. We talked for maybe ten minutes – chatter of the ‘getting to know each other’ kind.
Though I knew this was a necessary part of creating a bond between us as Domme and sub, I also knew that I still needed to reinforce my dominance over Kelsey – physical, moral and sexual. I had to bring him completely under my spell.
I stroked his face, kissing him, nibbling his neck, teasing him. He squirmed, then yelped when I touched his ass. “Poor gurl,” I crooned, kissing him again, “is his butt so sore?” He blushed.
My fingers walked down his chest, down his belly to his groin. He sighed pleasurably as I touched his cock, then squirmed as I began to rub it. His gyrations intensified. “Poor gurl,” I whispered to him, “is he…uncomfortable.” I kissed him harder, grasping his shaft, stroking it harder too as I kept kissing him.
He broke the kiss, breathlessly. “Ms…I’ve…cum twice already!” he pleaded.
I kissed him again, cutting off his halfhearted objections as I pumped him. Despite his protests, it didn’t take long before he came a third time, moaning and shuddering against me. I helped him to clean up, and then said, “Kelsey, I’d like a drink and something to eat. Go get me a bottle of white wine – we can share it – some bar snacks and…yes…a chocolate sundae.” The fight and the sex had made me ravenous.
I watched as Kelsey obediently trotted off to the bar. His legs were a little rubbery, his head bowed, as if he didn't want people to see his shame at what I'd done to him. But of course, it was too late for that. He’d only gone about a quarter of the way when some blonde, not looking where she was going, bumped into him. Although it was entirely the blonde’s fault, she tore into Kelsey with a vengeance, standing inches from him, shaking her fist in his face while everyone – or at least those not still taking their pleasure from Chelle – looked on.
Kelsey didn’t do a thing to stand up for himself. He just slunk away, hunkered down, trying to make himself an even smaller target. It didn't work. After that, he was groped and slapped the whole way to the bar, picked over like any other weakling in Chatro, helpless without his Goddess’s protection.
As he approached the bar, Kelsey stumbled and fell, sprawling, onto a table. At first I thought his foot must have caught on something because the brat had his head down, but I quickly learned otherwise. “Look where you’re going, brat gurl!” Robbyn Hayes shouted. I gasped. I hadn’t realized that the blonde who’d told him off a minute before was Robbyn – not until I heard her voice.
To my surprise though, Kelsey didn’t just take it this time. “You tripped me!” His high-pitched whine was sure to be heard all over Chatro.
“So what?” Robbyn sneered. She slapped Kelsey’s ass, hard. “You should stay out of people’s way!”
Kelsey squealed when Robbyn slapped his ass again. High in the air over the table, it was a perfect target for a cruel, nasty, spiteful jackal like Robbyn. She took full advantage, pinning Kelsey to the table with one hand, pressing down on the small of the brat’s back as she smacked him viciously with the other, alternating her slaps, first on his left cheek, then his right.
Kelsey howled in pain and misery, squirming and thrashing as he struggled to get free. Of course, he failed. It was only a few moments before he shrieked, “Ms! Mistress! Please, Goddess, please help me!”
It was only a few moments, yes, but it was an enormous change. No longer was Kelsey the confident, cute cross dresser, no longer Chelle’s admirer defying me but my own sub now, weakly pleading for me to save him. Half an hour ago Kelsey would have had no trouble getting free of Robbyn's grip. He was still the same fit guy – yes, a gurl but that didn't mean he wasn't strong. He'd lost his will, though. I'd stolen his confidence.
My smile widened. Kelsey was so helpless. Standing on one leg, Robbyn pressed her other knee into the small of his back. With her now free hand, she yanked on his long hair, twisting his head up to make him look at her. “Nobody’s going to save you, you worthless brat!” she snarled at him.
She was wrong about that. “Let him go!” I commanded.
Robbyn whirled around toward me, and in the same motion swung her arm in a slap that rocked me backwards. Before I could recover, she planted both feet back on the floor and lashed out again. Her fist rammed into the pit of my stomach. I gasped and almost doubled up.
She grabbed my hair, dragging me upright and swung another slap at my face. I parried that one, thrusting my arm up into her way. I didn’t parry her knee though, which hammered my stomach again. I gagged air and spit gushed from my mouth. Most women would have gone down under this flurry of blows, but I’m not most women – I’m Melissa Windeyer.
I sent back a hard fist aimed at Robbyn's face. She deflected it with her forearm, but it broke her momentum. I stepped back, trying to regroup, and we circled for a moment. Robbyn growled at me. She even spat. I calmly waited for her, knowing that every second let me recover.
The silly bitch couldn’t wait to get to grips with me. She lunged forward, trying to grapple. I sidestepped and swung a punch that slammed into her head. I'd hoped the blow might daze her but Robbyn shook it off far too quickly. She ducked and tried a leg sweep but while her recovery was fast, I was faster. I leaped up, avoiding the sweep. Then, as Robbyn got back to her feet, I slammed a second punch into her cheek. She groaned, and then again when my other fist ploughed into her belly. She spluttered. I followed up with a barrage of blows which left her reeling.
Just over Robbyn's shoulder stood Kelsey, his mouth twitching, his body shaking. I smiled. This was how it should be. Melissa Windeyer was showing her dominance again.
Again and again I pressed my attack, slugging Robbyn with hard kicks, punches and slaps that sent her stumbling across the room. This piece of nothing was learning, all over again, not to cross Melissa Windeyer. Yes she was still defending well, and less than half my blows hit home, but she was defending and not attacking. She was gasping, her face red.
Then she ducked under one of my attacks, a scything slap which, if it had hit, would have been a knockout blow. A lesser fighter would have overbalanced. It was bad enough that I was stretched out. Robbyn's hand darted above her head, grabbed my arm and yanked it hard. I struggled, successfully of course, to stay on my feet, but then Robbyn's other elbow crashed deep and hard into my stomach.
The breath rushed from my mouth even before the pain registered, surging deep into my belly. I groaned but I kept my wits about me as I tried to pull my arm out of the slut's grasp. I succeeded – after all, I am Melissa Windeyer – but Robbyn was back on her feet and back on the offensive.
She attacked with a barrage of kicks and punches. I defended, trading space for time to recover. I blocked or deflected most of her blows. I tried to counter attack but for the moment, Robbyn had the advantage. It was no use telling myself that this was not the way it should be – veryone expected me to win convincingly and easily. I had to turn the fight around.
I stumbled, seemingly worn down by the fight. Robbyn's eyes glinted. She had expected something like this – that I’d be worn out after my battle with Chelle. The hyena wouldn't have dared provoke me at full strength. She closed for the kill. Instead, I flung my arm out, catching her around the neck. I almost completed the headlock when I slipped on some liquid – probably wine spilt from one of the tables we'd hit during the struggle. I screamed out in surprise as my leg slid out from under me. I didn’t have time to fall though. Immediately, the vulture capitalised on my misfortune and her punch to my chin sent me flying backward. I lost my balance completely and fell back onto a table. I heard Kelsey squeal in fright.
A lesser woman would have despaired, but not Melissa Windeyer. I brought my leg up, pulling it back until my knee touched my breast, then rammed it forward. It struck the gloating Robbyn right in the belly. I felt my heel sink in deep, and heard Robbyn's long wail of agony. I felt her spit on my leg – spit forced from her mouth by the rush of air leaving her shattered lungs.
I swung my legs out, trapping the clueless blonde in a scissors between my powerful, well-developed thighs. I was sitting up before she had a chance to wonder how the battle had been so suddenly turned around. I reached out, grabbed one of her flailing arms, yanking her closer, and fired a crippling blow to her chin. Robbyn's head snapped back just as I opened my legs, and she reeled backwards.
Instantly I was on my feet, firing another punch to her face. She staggered. I grabbed her arm again and held her close as I brought my knee up to pound her ravaged belly, three times, until she sank to her knees. I seized her long hair. She tried to protest, to beg but no words came out. I’d completely winded her. I yanked her up, sent my knee one more time into her gut, then flung her to the floor. She lay there, gasping, tears of pain in her eyes. I ground my heel into her belly. “Don't mess with my gurl!”
I turned my back on Robbyn and enveloped Kelsey in a hug, my mouth seeking his in a long, passionate kiss. The crowd parted for us as we walked to the bar. Kelsey ordered the drinks and snacks that I’d originally sent him for. He opened his purse but I waved him aside. “This is on Robbyn's tab!” I told the barman.
We walked back to our booth. Kelsey put the drinks, the ice bucket and the food on the table. Then he knelt and worshipped me, eating me out again as I leaned back against the edge of the table, clutching his hair. “Oh yes gurl…yes, yes, yes!” Excited by yet another victory, I came quickly.
Kelsey wiped away my sweat from the fight with some cold water from the ice bucket, and dried my skin with his hair. I'd felt his shaft press against my legs as he ate me out. I knew he was horny again, in need of release. I pushed him back against the table and up till once more he sprawled on it. Again I pulled my panties down and rode him, guiding his hand to pleasure my clit. I squeezed his cock with my inner muscles, controlling him until he and I came together.
Pulling myself up from him, I climbed off the table and moved over to sit on a chair. I had him sit on my lap. We ate and drank. Kelsey seemed tired. He was gasping, but he was content though, as he snuggled with me.
“Ms...what are you doing?” I had wrapped my hand around his limp cock and was squeezing and stroking it.
“Silly gurl, what do you think I'm doing? I'm making you hard again.” Or at least that's what I was trying to do. He wasn't responding – much.
“But Ms...Goddess...I've cum four times in, like, forty minutes. I'm...” His voice trailed off.
Inwardly I smiled. My plan was succeeding. I'd captured and broken him physically – his ass was still tender from the hairbrush. I'd broken him mentally – he’d pleaded with me to rescue him from Robbyn. Now I'd milk him dry and break him sexually. He'd be my toy! I all but licked my lips at the thought.
I eased him off my lap and leaned him against the edge of the table, then crouched down in front of him. I took the head of his cock in my mouth and swirled it around, stroking it with my tongue. Some life returned to his flagging member, though not much.
I knew what I had to do. I groped for the candle on the table and, when I found it, drove it hard into his ass. He squealed again, but immediately his cock went rigid. I smiled inwardly again. I knew exactly what effect it would have on him – and so it proved.
Now I was able to lick and suck it properly. It grew harder still, but still I worked long and hard, longer and harder than I'd ever worked, giving head – and Melissa Windeyer gives great head – before Kelsey finally came again.
“Goddess…no more, please…no more for now!” he croaked. “I can't…I can't do anything, Ms.”
I stood up. “Kelsey, you forget yourself!”
“I’m sorry, Ms…but Ms…I need...” He blushed, too ashamed to admit I’d milked him dry.
I smacked his cheek so hard his whole body rocked. He squealed. I stared at him, my grey eyes boring into his. “You forget yourself, Kelsey,” I repeated. “Your needs don’t matter, do they? Not compared to mine!”
“No Goddess Melissa,” he replied. “I'm sorry!”
I looked down my nose at him. “And so you should be.” I tapped my shoe on the floor, punctuating each word. He trembled. “I saved you from Robbyn.” I knew my constant tapping was unnerving him. Kelsey looked away, hanging his head. I seized his chin. “Look at me, gurl, when I speak to you!” I made him do so. “You know what would happen if I cast you adrift.”
He dropped to his knees. “No, Ms! No! Don't do that, Ms! Ms…you... you own me.”
I smiled. My dominance was complete. “Yes I do…and tomorrow, you’ll buy a collar. But for now…” I grabbed my purse, pulled out my lipstick and wrote on his neck, 'Owned by Ms M Windeyer.' “Now you'll have no more problems…not tonight, anyway.” I kissed him.
“Thank you, Ms…thank you!”
“That's alright, pet. That's alright. You be a good boy and I'll see you later.”
I watched my new slave totter off, and went to shower myself. I wanted Kelsey to help me, to serve me, to worship me by washing and drying me, but this was Chatro and not Ronaldo. The conveniences here were no more than convenient – no private rooms with showers, washing machines and driers. I shrugged my shoulders. I probably didn’t have time to wash and dry my clothes, or to spend time enjoying Kelsey’s attentions anyway. I had other priorities that night.
