The Deal of My Life Ch. 02

It didn't start that way with Jessica. I think it would have been impossible to start our relationship in the form that it currently exists. Neither of us would have been ready, emotionally or intellectually, to trust the other in such a special way at first. It's difficult enough to talk in relationships, let alone about those sexual fantasies that titillate us so much that we feel they must be weird and unique. And I haven't even mentioned the relationship that Master and Jessica have. With a many-party relationship, there are many considerations to be made, and I think our success starts with structure.

When you go to work, you have a title and a responsibility. There are people over you, people under you, or at the least, people to whom you are held accountable. You have a role. In personal relationships, again, there are roles, and I think when we let society define those roles for us as our jobs define our work roles, we lose touch with our own needs and desires. We lose the ability to make ourselves happy, because we are too busy trying to fulfill expectations that don't really exist. Society doesn't really care that I consider myself owned property of my Husband and fuck toy of my boyfriend Jessica. Nothing I do is harmful to society, though I do try not to call too much attention to my preferences in the public sphere. I do want to keep my job, after all, and you can get fired for the stupidest shit.

In addition to structure, there is at least one other aspect that keeps life harmonious. Before we met Jessica, my Husband and I had been trying to learn how not to take things personally. This was a challenge for both of us, because we are so intimately involved in each others' lives, but it has made the relationship much easier to maintain in the long run. We've definitely made progress, but it is on on-going challenge, because the habits of a lifetime are hard to break. I do think it's more of a challenge for me though. After all, as His slave, I have a much more vested interest in His opinion that He has of mine.

Not that He doesn't pay attention to my opinions, it's just when it comes to decisions in our relationship, His is the only word. That is our structure of compromise. He decides, but I do get to advise and comment and make my arguments. I like it that way, because I tend to be rather less than ideally decisive. My mind branches out in so many directions, considering so many possible outcomes to a choice that I freeze up rather than decide. He, on the other hand, might make a decision very quickly without considering all the relevant ramifications, which is where my attention to detail comes in handy. He calls me His PDA sometimes, and I can't disagree with the description.

It's silly to me when compromise is taken to mean a 50/50 split. To me, compromise is about agreeing how to disagree while moving forward. A stand-off is no way to compromise, but a great way to end a relationship. These are almost the exact words I wrote on a message board a few years ago. My ideas got the attention of a local female with the username jsass. We proceeded to have a heated argument on the board. She didn't believe that anything I said would ever work. I responded to each of her rejoinders to the best of my ability, and tried really hard not to take any of her casual internet insults personally. I didn't succeed entirely, but I did manage to keep my end of the public exchange civil. She ended up taking heat for her vehemence against me, but despite her getting in trouble on the boards, she invited me out for coffee and I, with Master's permission, accepted.

When I first met Master in person, something clicked between us. It wasn't physical, more like meta-physical. Before I met Jessica, I thought that kind of thing happened once if you were lucky. Now I believe that if someone is worth the long term investment of time and emotion, you know it when you meet them. I've invested plenty of emotional time and energy over the years with various people, hoping to create that spark, but in my experience, it's either there or it isn't. You can't create it.

I was nervous for the coffee meeting, but not more than my normal 'new social situation' nervousness, so I mostly ignored it. Master walked with me to within a couple blocks of the coffee shop so we could spend time talking. I was chatty, but not really talking about anything. He allowed me to hug Him goodbye before we parted ways, and I savored His scent as we embraced. Then I squared my shoulders and headed off to meet my erstwhile online enemy.

She had sent me an email, after I accepted her invitation, describing how I would know her at the coffee shop. "I'll be the skinny blonde looking out of place," she had written. Surprisingly, that described her well enough for me to find her when I walked in. Of course, it helped that the coffee shop we had decided on tended to be empty. I don't know how it stays in business, but I rarely see other customers whenever I go there. That actually makes it a really great meeting place for Master and myself, but now I totally can't reveal where it is. Wouldn't want it to get unusefully popular, now would I?

She didn't look out of place as far as how she was dressed, but there was a definite sense about her that she felt out of place, or at least that's how I perceived her body language. She seemed ready to get up and leave at any moment, to flee. As if she were counting the seconds until she could reasonably say that I hadn't shown up on time. I ignored her as I got coffee, more to see what she would do than any sensible reason.

When I finished my coffee transaction, I turned to find her looking at me. She knew. I hadn't fooled her. I filed that information away, but of course, with so few customers, it isn't as if the guess was a difficult one.

She stood as I approached and held out her hand.

"Jessica," she said.

"Nice to meet you Jessica. I'm Tara."

We shook hands, and really, it was then that I knew this could be something more. Touching her hand with mine, I felt sparks, or current or something that electrified my spirit. I knew that she would be worth the time for me, and I wanted her to feel that I could be worth her time too.

Her hand was warm, dry and strong. Standing, she was about 5'8" wearing flat shoes. I knew I'd be dwarfed by her if I weren't wearing three inch heeled sandals. I had a moment of intimidation at seeing how skinny she really was, but I've learned to love my body's curves too much to really covet a flat stomach. Or so I tell myself.

We sat in big cushy armchairs that cornered each other. I got the ball rolling by immediately tossing it to her, a technique that I find both cheaterly and effective.

"So, what made you decide to invite me to coffee?" I asked, keeping my tone light, teasing. I didn't want to scare her away. I wanted to hook her and reel her in. Is it wrong to think of a person like that? Maybe it's just wrong not to admit how we interact with people every day as predator, prey, and bait.

"I didn't think you were real, mostly," she replied, eyes sliding away when mine sought contact. "I still don't think that your ideas work in the real world. Why would anyone want to cede their rights to another person's decision making? I don't understand it."

"But you want to understand it?"

"Yes. It bugs me." Jessica agitatedly swept her bangs out of her face. They were so long, she was either growing them out or just didn't bother with haircuts very often. The rest of her hair was tied back in a tail. An old t-shirt and worn jeans matched her flat all purpose athletic type shoes, but the overall look was careless. Her face was lovely to me. I know my tastes aren't universal, based on whom the media finds attractive versus my personal tastes, but the clean lines and strong bones of her face looked just right to my eyes. When I finally got a good look at her eyes, I could see they were hazel. She reminded me of a young skater boy type. And I've always had a thing for girls with a bit of dykiness to them.

"Then I'll try to explain it, but I don't know if I'll be able to convince you of anything other than my own insanity."

She grinned at that. "I'm already convinced you're insane Tara."

"Well then, my job is done," I joked. "Seriously though, my decision to cede my decision-making powers to my Husband gives me quite a lot of freedom, and is an integral part of my happiness. I have a hard time making decisions, whereas He is quite good at it."

"I've read that line," she sighed. "I know why you claim to feel and do the things that you do. What I want to know is why? What made you, you in particular, choose this life?"

I sat for a moment to think about my response. I decided to give an honest answer, even though I felt that this would forever brand me in anyone's eyes as an untouchable freak. On some level, I agreed with her incredulity, because on some level I could hardly believe that I was living the life that I was. But I couldn't argue with results, and the results of my life have been so much more positive with Master than before Him.

"It started with sex. I know that might seem shallow, but that's where it started for me. In high school and college, I experienced a few BDSM type sexual encounters. So when I met a guy in college who was also into such interests, I thought I had found what I was looking for. My problem was in not understanding that he and I were, in some ways, too alike. Both of us wanted to be done; neither of us were particularly into the doing part.

"Eventually, I convinced him to join a local BDSM group. This took about two years to do, because he was afraid and generally anti-social, but we did it. I immediately began to try to get involved on the message boards of the group online, because it seemed a safe way to dabble. I added people to my instant messenger list and I chatted. Through a series of stupid moves I met the Man that would become Master and Husband to me. Our whole relationship was built on a premise of Master and slave, though at first we couched it in terms of Dominant and submissive.

"Every day, I have a choice Jessica. Every day, I know that I can end this relationship. So far, every day I choose to remain His slave. I do it because I am happy. Being on my own, having to make my own decisions, it doesn't work for me. It isn't that I'm not smart, or not capable of making decisions. I just don't like it. It doesn't suit me. It isn't who I am. I'm awful at making decisions, but I am really great at following through on His decisions, and helping Him to have all the information He needs to make an informed decision."

Jessica had been listening intently from the look on her face, but now she frowned.

"But doesn't that make you a horrible person?" she asked. "I mean, not to say that you are, but isn't it just wrong to let someone else run your life? Isn't that letting down years of feminists who fought so that you could be an independent and free woman in our society?"

I sighed.

"For one, I don't feel that I owe anyone anything for the free choices that they make. By the same token, I don't expect anything from anyone for the choices that I make. Beyond that, didn't they fight for the right for women to choose how to live their lives? I make my choice every day; who are they to tell me that I am wrong for choosing what I do? I hate the idea that because some political activist twenty years ago chose to live a certain way, and helped shape the world that I now live in, I am somehow betraying an ideal by my choices, simply on the grounds that they are different from said dead activist.

"I want to be happy, and I want to live my life. Master and I are not hurting anyone by living the way that we do."

"But you can't bring children into that kind of relationship," Jessica countered. I rolled my eyes.

"Then it's a good thing I have no interest in having any children."

"But, then, um, why are you married?"

"Insurance."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. And so that He can legally lay claim to me. Marriage, the last bastion of legal slavery!"

She laughed and I joined her. Then I did something I never would have thought possible before being with Master.

"So, I have to say that I find you very attractive. My marriage is not a bar to my having relationships with women. May I take you to see a movie? We can just see what's playing across the street and go from there?"

She looked shocked, but also flattered, and in that moment I knew I had her. For once, my blunt forward approach had worked. I had dizzied her with philosophical and sexual jargon, shaking her defenses before setting the hook. I was pretty excited to tell Master all about it. But first, I hoped to have more to tell Him.

"Sure. This is crazy. But sure. If there's anything good playing that is," she responded, stumbling over the words tumbling out of her mouth.

Walking to the theater, I courted her. I held doors; I looked at her with heat in my eyes. I could feel the sexual tension mounting between us, and I fed the flames as best I could.

We chose the latest generic action flick. I found that she agreed with my personal credo that a movie seen in a theater should be shiny enough to justify the ticket price. I don't have anything against good cinema, but I don't feel the need to see it on the big screen if it's essentially people talking.

My other reason for choosing a mindless action flick was that it would have plenty of noise to hide any noises I might be able to draw from Jessica.

I had made out in movie theaters before, even going so far as some petting and touching with another person. I had masturbated (frequently) in theaters before with no ill consequences, but that wasn't on my agenda right at that moment. I wanted to see how far I could go, how far she would go with me. I just had this feeling, this gut sense that this would be an adventure for both of us, if only I got it started.

As it was a weeknight, the theater was not crowded, which suited my plans just fine. I just needed to sound her out, just a bit more. I didn't want to do that in the dark of the theater.

"Do you want popcorn or something?" I asked after we had bought our tickets and entered the butter-scented lobby.

"No, I'm not hungry and I hate having drinks at movies. I always end up needing to leave to pee if I drink anything," she replied.

"How about we do a pit stop before picking our seats? I always like to get one last bladder emptying completed before settling in." I held out my crooked arm for her to take, and, miracle of miracles, she did.

"Sure, that's a good idea," she said as she took my arm and followed me to the bathrooms.

Her touch on my skin felt much cooler than her hand had been when we shook earlier. A coolness that made a tingle travel up my arm and directly between my legs. The bathroom was empty, or at least, empty enough. I led her down to the farthest stall from the door.

When I followed her inside and locked the stall, she didn't look surprised. I positioned myself so that we faced each other, her back to the door and mine to the toilet. She had a little of the deer-caught-in-headlights glaze to her eyes, but she didn't protest. I paused, because I wanted her to have a chance to say no and end it before I pushed us over the edge.

"I thought you were submissive," she said, her voice soft and breathy. "This doesn't look like submissive to me."

In answer, I took her face in my hands and pulled her in for a kiss. I started with a gentle brush of lips, eyes open and trying to read hers. I could feel her lips tremble before she gave in, closing her eyes and opening her mouth to mine. My hands moved back into her hair, messing up her pony tail as I slid my fingers along her scalp, experimenting with nails and little pulls of her hair. Her hands, which had started by her side, took my hips and slid towards my ass before hesitating.

Still kissing her, I put one of my hands on hers, moving it over my ass, giving her permission, since she seemed to be asking for it. After that she squeezed and kneaded at my flesh and I pressed into her, pushing her against the door, standing on tip toe to caress her breasts with my own.

I broke off.

"We'll miss the movie if we don't get going," I said quietly, keeping eye contact. Her skin was flushed, and she looked happy, to me.

"Would that be so bad?" she asked. I smiled wickedly at her, or at least that's what I was going for.

"The theater is dark and loud with seating. This place is kinda bright and totally lacking in appropriate seating," I replied, gesturing to the toilet behind me. We giggled.

"True."

We went to separate stalls to conclude the original purpose of the bathroom visit and left the bathroom arm in arm and a bit punch drunk. The ticket girl was busy texting and hardly paid us any attention, which somehow just made the situation funnier.

"Theater three to your right enjoy the show."

"We intend to," I murmured to Jessica, and I was pretty sure she blushed, but even in the lobby, the lighting was dim enough to make it difficult to tell for sure.

I felt high as we entered the theater, buoyed by the unexpected success of my advances. I was going to see how far I would go, and how far she would go, and the prospect frankly aroused me. We walked together into the stadium style seating of the theater, and proceeded to hike our way up to the very back row of the unoccupied theater. The movie would be starting soon, but the screen was still playing commercials and the lights remained up.

We sat angled to face each other with the separating arm rest up.

"So, care to tell me exactly how your recent behavior qualifies as submissive?" Jessica asked, her tone light but challenging.

"Just because I can be sexually aggressive doesn't mean I'm not submissive," I replied, giving my best innocent face (which honestly is not at all innocent).

"Okay, sure, except how do you explain how any kind of aggression could possibly be submissive?"

"Aggressive and submissive are not antonyms. Aggressive is the opposite of passive, not submissive. To me, at least, being submissive does not mean being passive. How boring would sex be with someone who was completely passive, right? Master doesn't want me to be passive and be silent as He makes a mistake. It isn't as if He's perfect. I would be betraying our relationship if I were to passively allow, for example, Him to make a wrong turn if I know that our destination lies in a different direction. Sometimes I'll be told to be quiet after such corrections, because He has a different plan, but I have to be active and make them."

"But in your relationship, would you make an advance on him like you did on me?" she asked.

"Absolutely. Part of our relationship is the understanding that I'm a slut. As a slut, I want sex pretty much all the time. I am required to express my desire for sex to Him, and leave it up to Him as to whether sex will be pursued at any given moment. I did the same with you. Questions, not demands. At least, that's what I was going for." She smiled as I gave her hopeful eyes. Then the lights began to dim. I took a glance around and was delighted to see it was still empty but for us.

"I love previews," Jessica said, leaning back and looking toward the screen. "They're always so much better than the actual movie that they're advertising. Everything rolled up into a neat little package. Especially for remakes, because you already know how they end."

"Yeah, but I hate when the preview shows all the good parts so when you do go see the movie there's nothing left that's worth paying for."

Jessica nodded and yawned ostentatiously, stretching her arms way overhead, performing the cheesy classic move and settling her arm around my shoulders. I snuggled up against her, leaning my head tantalizingly close to her breasts as we watched the previews. I was content to be patient. We had a whole 90 minutes to play.