Written by odaxelagnia

Fiction
9 Mar 2012


Finished, and a pretty good job at that. She surveyed her toes, wriggling them a little like they did in the movies and admired her handiwork. Black was definitely her colour, made her feel vampish and sexy with a hint of bad girl. She hoped Zara wouldn’t think she was overdoing it, that was the last thing she wanted. Not that she was trying to impress her, but, well . . . what the hell, she kinda was. She felt silly with her school girl crush, but couldn’t contain herself around her; it was like high school all over again. Sash hadn’t felt like this around another woman for a long time, thought she was over it, that it was a one off indulgence most women have. Well, it had certainly hit her this time, she thought, as she tried on yet another dress. Her thoughts turned to this morning, the coffee shop, the look that passed between them. Surely she hadn’t misinterpreted, she genuinely hoped not, and perhaps if she had, there’d be no harm done. Sash watched Zara eagerly every morning, as inconspicuously as possible of course, as she went about her daily routine. Served her her flat white, no sugar, no spoon while she read her paper and smoked, oblivious to the stares, open admiration and intriguing looks she received. Zara was smoking hot, not just typical classic good looks hot, but sexy, deep dark and mysterious kinda hot. She was amazing. Her hips and eyes were her best features by far, but only slightly behind her long dark hair and fabulous clothes sense. Every day called for a different look, and she played it well. From crazy ‘out there’ 60’s inspired looks with chunky boots, to hip hugging sleek dresses with plenty of eyeliner. She didn’t walk down the street without everyone looking twice. The thing about Zara was though, she was nice. It surprised everyone. Expecting a cold look, or a half concentrated conversation, people were noticeably surprised when she took an interest in your life, smiled at you, with you, and asked how your children were. So with that, whilst Sash was without a doubt excited to have been asked to go out and see a band with Zara, she wasn’t overly surprised at her invitation.

She checked herself again, probably the tenth time before heading out the door. She was happy with the result, and glad she’d taken Zara’s advice regarding her hair. Being told to keep it long, rather than going for the short style was perhaps another hint that she liked her in a different way? God she hoped so. They’d agreed for Sash to meet at Zaras place before they went out. A few pre drinks sounded like a good idea and she was looking forward to checking out her place. She’d tried to imagine what it would look like as she knew she lived alone. She couldn’t understand why, surely looking as she did she’d have bagged a guy by now, so weird, she thought.

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FUCK! She thought . . . that’s right, that stupid Sash was coming over. What the hell possessed her to invite her out? Was she retarded? Hello brain?? Jesus Zara, you gotta stop with the randoms. Stupid hazy morning after the night before mood . . . well, not much night really, considering she hadn’t slept. Fuck.

Sure, Sash was alright, and she did want to go see this band with someone. Could’ve been worse I guess, could’ve invited that idiot Dave again . . . she laughed, remembering that night. Haha, he won’t be in much of a hurry to go out with her again, poor thing.

She turned the taps on her shower so the water ran hot. She knew her showers were hotter than most people found comfortable, but that’s how she’d always liked it. She could never understand why people didn’t enjoy the extreme of everything, why not? she asked herself for the millionth time. If you could have something better, or just more of it, why wouldn’t you? It was basically how she lived her life, from wearing her sexy lingerie every day, indulging in chocolate whenever she wanted, working up to 60hrs a week, and when she ran . . . she ran miles. She pushed herself always, and more. Her appetite for life was insatiable, she’d tried to fill it with drugs years ago, still did at times, but found that a healthy mixture of everything was keeping it reasonably sated for the time being. Sex, however, was another story. Here we go again; she thought to herself, her brain always came back to sex. She laughed again . . . , happy to be alone so she could, as her hand crept downwards.

Relieved, but not for long she knew, she sat, still wet on her bed thinking. The shower and quick, but always effective orgasm had cleared her mind a little. Perhaps she could utilise Sash instead of the much younger but pliable Meg . . . hmm. Sash definitely showed signs of adoration, that much was plain to see, however she needed to be cautious, she was older than and perhaps not quite as vulnerable as Meg, and she’d laid groundwork with Meg. She considered her relationship with Sash, fairly public and hardly open to interpretation, no one would ever suspect anything. Plans were beginning to take shape in her mind as she began planning her evening: she was getting excited.

She chose her clothes carefully, knowing that as well as Sash evaluating her ‘look’, she had to dress according to how her evening would progress. Zara decided on her ‘warrior princess’ look with a smirk. Sash would never guess anything was amiss considering they were supposed to be seeing a metal band at a grungy pub, and with all her props, would tie in quite nicely. She tied her hair in a messy bun above her head (nothing worse than having to wash it twice in one week) and pulled on her favourite boots. Makeup deftly applied to highlight her emerald eyes (crazy, Dave called them), and she was done. She downed three shots of Tequila, poured a more socially acceptable looking drink, cranked her stereo, and waited . . .

As Sash rang the doorbell, her stomach fluttered. She couldn’t quite work out whether from nerves or something else . . . she felt strange nevertheless. Zara buzzed her up, and as she took step after step up to the 4th floor, her excitement increased until she thought she was going to puke. Weird, she thought grinning . . . she felt like a little kid. Zara was already holding the door open when she got to her floor, music blaring from inside, and looking like an Amazon woman. Sash made a conscious effort to close her mouth as she gaped in awe at the beauty of the woman. She was so amazingly stunning, so beautiful, bronzed and shapely she could barely speak. Sash mentally slapped herself.

‘Come in Sash, great to see you’,

Zara’s voice sounded like pure honey when directed solely at her. She stepped inside and looked around, not disappointed. Without even asking, Zara strode over to the bar and began mixing a drink, so Sash took the opportunity to glance quickly around her apartment, before her eyes were drawn uncontrollably to her arse. As Zara turned around, Sash knew immediately she’d been busted, and was surprised at the look in her eyes.

‘And? . . . what’s the verdict my dear Sasha?’, the venom unmistakable.

Sash began mumbling some semblance of an apology, surprised by Zara’s response to what she thought was a harmless glance. The little kid feeling aroused within her once again, although this time stronger, and without relief.

‘I, I just was . . . I . .I like what you’re wearing’ she stuttered, sounding completely ridiculous.

‘I’m sure you do, but my clothes weren’t the object of your admiration were they?’

Eyes downcast, Sash felt silly, she’d been looking forward to this evening all day, and now she’d wrecked it, more than anything at all she was embarrassed to have caused an incident so early in the night. And Zara seemed so angry about it! She was sure she wasn’t a prude or anything, so she wondered what it was that was so bad?

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As Sash climbed the stairs, Zara peered over the ledge wondering what her little bundle of joy would be wearing. Hmm, perfect, almost slutlike. Good to see she’d decided to dress for the occasion! She laughed again to herself, and then made a mental note to limit inner laughs. Fuckit she thought, I’m hilarious. . . As she opened the door for Sash, she could see she was in awe; of her, of the apartment, of the evening she thought was to come. Fantastic she thought, ‘come on in little one’. Beautifully, and almost to cue, Sash began what was to be a memorable evening.

Watching Sash stumble on her words and begging for a lifeline, gave Zara that delicious feeling in her gut, the beginnings of something she loved. Not content to feed it just yet, she offered the drink she’d made, softened her face and smiled. The confusion on Sash’s face was priceless as she struggled to understand what had just happened. ‘All good Sash, just playing with you darling, you didn’t think I meant it did you?’ she purred. ‘Lets sit, drink, and have a chat before we head out, it’s still early’.

Poor Sash was beside herself, but pulled herself together as best she could hoping to regain something that resembled the atmosphere of before. ‘I’m so sorry Zara, I really didn’t mean it’ she began . . . ‘Shh sweety, it’s fine!’ she replied, a little too high pitched for her liking, and just as she realised her mistake, Sash picked up on it too. Damn! Fucking idiot Zar . . . move quick. Sash leapt up off the couch, but not nearly quick enough. Zara had had plenty of experience with little bitches that thought they could get away from her, and none ever had. She had hold of her arm and yanked her sideways, twisting her hand behind her back in one move. Feeling the first sensations of pleasure begin to ripple through her, she laughed again, but aloud this time. Before Sash could make too much noise, she retrieved the scarf she’d placed between the cushions and wrapped it around her face. She’d rearrange it more aesthetically later, but for now it would do. Grabbing her other arm, she tied both in front of her, then secured them to her knees. Poor little thing was crying already, oh dear, what a baby.

Grabbing yet another scarf, she threaded it under Sash’s arms and attached it to a strategically place hook at the back of the couch. Now she looked attractive; pleading tearful eyes, silent screams and plenty of thrashing about . . . Thrash away bitch.

She slapped her hard on the cheek, not to silence her, but to get her attention. Slapped her again, harder this time, relishing the red on her cheek. Safe in the knowledge she was secure; Zara went and poured herself another drink. Watching Sash struggling, her legs flailing gave her an idea. She went into her spare room and grabbed her electric drill, hoping it was charged. Picking up a couple of extra things from her kitchen drawer she entered the lounge room pleased with the effect holding the drill had on Sash . Her eyes were about to pop out of her skull she was so frightened.

Fuck yeh . . .

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Sash’s brain was running a hundred miles an hour and none. Time seemed to have slowed to a standstill and yet her emotions were electrified. She couldn’t understand what had happened, when it had happened, and what the hell had happened to her friend? It was like she had entered a parallel universe, where nothing seemed right. One minute she was sharing a drink with her idea of the perfect woman, the next she was . . . god, she couldn’t even explain. Zara had become someone else, evil or something. She’d hurt her, tied her to her couch and then slapped her! She was petrified, if what had already happened seemed unbelievable, what else could possibly happen. She didn’t even want to think about it, couldn’t think about it. She hoped that by showing Zara how terrified she was, she might let her go . . . or something. Where do you go from here? From being tied up in your friends house? She screamed harder, although it did nothing but cause the blood vessels in her eyes to become engorged, and her throat to dry. She was so scared, her cheek hurt and she felt incredibly vulnerable.

She looked up to see Zara re-enter the room with a drill. She felt herself puke but the scarf held it in. She choked and shit herself at the same time . . . holy fuck