A Chance Meeting Ch. 01

I gave into her desires and whims and with just a smile and a gentle caress she always got her way. She was in strict control of our relationship but I never viewed her as too assertive or demanding. It was just easier to give her what she wanted rather than argue and in the end giving in to her anyway.

Soon there was a definite dominant edge to our life together. Rarely did she ask my opinion, but now just made choices for me. I was never asked, but was told what to wear, where to go and how to spend my free time. By our junior year all my free time belonged to her and I spent it on my knees or on my back giving her oral pleasure.

Margo was very creative and daring. I never knew what to expect.

Every so often there would be a new toy or a new game to play. Now and a again a new woman would visit and we both pleased Margo. I remember spending whole nights in competition to see which one of us could give Margo the strongest orgasms. Leather wrist and ankle cuffs and a collar became part of my nightly sleep wear. Other erotic toys found a way into our play. I learned to satisfy her need for oral pleasure, tied open and exposed on my bed with my face covered in her cream and my tongue aching from hours spent loving her pussy with anal beads or a plug in my ass.

My world revolved around the fragrant trimmed mound between her legs as my mound was now shaved bare. I was happy and so much in love with her, already planning our future together, living together, adopting children and living as a couple.

About midway through our Junior year, Monica grew distant and cold in our play, substituting sex toys for her actually making intimate love to me. Her tongue no longer probed me at all, but now a double ended strap on dildo substituted and plunged hard, deep and fast into my sore pussy. I wore anal beads or plugs in my bottom to class each day. She forbade me from playing with myself and still expected me to provide my tongue on demand each night for her orgasms.

This new Margo was cruel and uncaring to me. At the same time, she become even more of a restless sexual free spirit. Margo spent less and less time in our dorm room loving me and more time finding other women to enjoy and control.

At last she told me she was done with me. Her next statement took me totally by surprise. my best friend told me it was exhausting taking care of me. She did not want to settle down and love just one person and my dreams were not her dreams and they annoyed her. She was tired of my incessant talk of marriage, a family and going back home.

She scolded me and said in an almost disgusted way that I had to grow up and not cling to her skirts like a little lost puppy. The world had changed for her and she wanted to go in a different direction.

Her blue eyes, grew dark with distain as she coldly told me she was moving out and planned on having a new roommate in the fall. I was shocked to hear she was moving on, without another word to me she was gone. She had shoved her things into a soft sided bag, zipped it up and was out the door.

I later found out she went to live with another woman that she had meet in one of her classes. I think I cried for the remainder of the school year. I was devastated each time I saw her on campus and I remember skipping classes, just to avoid bumping into her. I managed to get through finals and returned home for the Summer. It was the first time in my life that vacation time did not include Margo time. I knew she came home, but we never spoke or spent time together.

I would like to say that Margo and I got back together in the Fall, but this is reality and not fiction and after the split we just grew apart. I made a few casual new friends and lived an asexual existence, not dating men or women. I focused on my degree and graduated in the top of my class. I took the LSATS, applied to law school and got accepted. Three years later I graduated with honors. I got a paid internship with a large law firm in NYC, the summer before my last year of law school and was offered a full time job, starting in the fall after graduation.

I returned home and fell right back into my old heterosexual small town conservative lifestyle. Now four years older and cured of my disabling awkwardness and shyness I spent the entire summer dating a cute guy, who hadn't even given me a glance in high school. When fall came I told him it was over, made my goodbyes to my family, packed a my few things and was ready to never look back. I locked the memory of this guy along with the last seven years, the small town where I grew up and my friendship and love for Margo, all in a small box within my head. They were of no importance to the new me. My future was in the big city and not my small town past.

I was so proud of this career opportunity and made the most of it. I moved my few possessions to New York City and began work as an associate lawyer, found a shared space in a small apartment with a couple of other new hires, just a subway ride away from work. I worked long hours, never refused when the partners demanded overtime or weekend work. Never complaining about shitty assignments or how difficult it was to make a life in a new city.

Everything here was so expensive and people's attitudes were so different. The worst realization for me was how hard it was to make friends. I was lonely. The women at work even the girls I lived with all viewed me as their competition for partner and the available men. They seemed at times more hostile rather than just distant and distrusting.

Men, I met at the bars or clubs where I went to try to develop some like of a social life, all seemed to have agendas. This big city was so different from the big city I had fashioned in my head when I was growing up. Slowly, I became a big city girl, grew a harder outer shell and it began to show in my attitude and thoughts. I guarded my feelings and focused on developing my career girl outer image.

I wanted better clothes. I wanted contact lenses for my eyes. I wanted bigger breasts. I want a new haircut and to have my hair lightened. I had a new outlook on life, a New York attitude, but did not have the income to support it. In the end my efforts paid off and I made partner in a just under three years. I now had the income to support my dreams. The shy and retiring little mouse of a girl was gone. First my breasts were enlarged to a full C cup, then blue contact lenses were in my eyes and finally my hair was in a sexy stylish up do, and now a pleasing blonde color.

I was a successful young hip single New York attorney. I spent my time finding new ways to indulge myself and be pampered. I bought my first expensive new wardrobe with the help of my own private shopper, supplied by the an upscale department store. Spent a small fortune on new makeup and began to live the life I always envied the popular girls at home and in the big city for living. I now remembered Margo, no longer as the girl who hurt me so deeply in college, but as the attractive confident beautiful young woman that embodied all the qualities that I yearned to have.

The new me was born. I dated, easily made friends and enjoyed the city. I was now the one that men wanted to know. I was the one that was charming and could get her way with a simple smile or a flirtatious glance.

In the midst of this dramatic evolution of mind, body and spirit, I remembered my bestie from high school and college. I remembered that first kiss with Margo at the end of my high school senior year and how we explored girl love in college. Like a bolt of electricity running through my entire body, it hit me that kissing girls was always better than kissing boys and I was so much happier between a woman's legs than a man's. I knew that I was gay. It was like a great burden had been lifted off of me and I was contented, finally comfortable in my own skin. After all the failed dates with guys, why hadn't I seen it or felt it. I just knew going gay was the right direction for me.

I packed my things moved from the shared apartment just a subway stop from work and found a nice single apartment in the village. I made a wide circle of lesbian friends. We went to clubs, shopped the quaint stores and markets, even marched in the pride parade. I loved my new life style and all that went with it.

My calls home became less frequent, but left me uneasy and feeling more and more dishonest with my parents. I became an expert of avoidance and misdirection. I was sure my conservative parents would never accept the new me. I was too afraid of telling them about how I had changed and found my true self. I had heard so many horror stories from other lesbians girls about how old friends and family rejected them after they came out. I was no longer close to my parents, but their love and respect was still important to me. I joined a support group to explore these feelings and my fears.

It was at one of those meeting that I met my first real Lesbian girlfriend. Toni and I dated for several months and decided to move in together. Now when My mother asked if I had met someone, I was able to say I had. It wasn't my fault when she asked the name of my new friend and I said Toni, she thought I spelled it with a "y" and Toni was a male.

Toni told me I was being a coward and I needed "woman up" and tell them the truth about myself and my lifestyle. I wasn't a little girl anymore and avoiding the issue would not make it go away. She was confidant that the love my parents must have for their daughter would still be there no matter my choice of love partners.

She told me how empowering it had been for her to come out to her parents. She had been afraid just like me and agonized over the decision. She was so afraid of them abandoning her. Finally she confronted Her fears and made the dreaded trip home. Shaking with dread and anxiety, she bravely told her parents. Her parents looked shocked, but they both held her close. They admitted they did not truly understand, but they loved her and supported her choices.

She encouraged me to be honest with my parents and go home and come out to them. Repeatedly, she told me no matter what happened I would feel better in the long run for being honest. Finally with her support I decided to take a trip home and out myself to my ultra conservative parents. The three hour plane seemed to go by in moment and the ride in my rental car seemed to take forever. I drove past my parent's house several times building up the courage to go inside.

As it turned out, my honesty was not so empowering and with no feeling of acceptance. All I got was an overwhelming sense of grief, loss and shame. My mother cried and moaned the loss of future biological grandchildren, my father yelled and ranted and cried, moaning how his friends would react to my sick perversions when he told them. Suddenly I found myself without parents or a hometown.

I was told to leave immediately, never to call and never ever to return. My father made it clear to me he no longer had a daughter and I was no longer welcome under the roof where I lived my whole life. Frankly I should have known better, what could I expect from small minded people living in a small town in the middle of nowhere USA.

I took the first plane back to New York, cried most of the way home and with red puffy eyes was greeted by my girlfriend Toni. For the first time in years, I cried into the arms of another woman, sure that my life was over. I soon recovered my New York prospective, put on my big girl panties and placed my visit home in the same box with the other less than pleasant memories in my life.

I never quite forgave Toni for convincing me to come out so publicly to my parents and with much tears and sorrow we broke up. She moved out and I was alone again.

For the next several years I went from one relationship to another. I can't say I was unhappy in any of them, but I can't say I was truly happy in any of them either. After a few months, I always found a reason to move on. A nagging vague feeling always in the back of my head that something was missing.

I become a serial monogamist, dating one woman at a time, often for long periods, but never settling down. I came to believe I suffered from a terminal case of got a "scratch" you can't itch syndrome. Certainly, none of the beautiful, talented and loving "back scratchers" I dated every could relieve it.

I am now 33, starting my second decade in the city and still single, no closer to finding the love of my life. The scene here in New York is very open and filled with every type of woman that a horny gal like me can desire. I have pursued women of all types, from bi and married to the divorced and confirmed Lesbian.

My taste in woman is varied. I have dated and bedded Butch Lesbian in their tee shirts, jean and boots, lipstick Lesbians, whose dress and manner are much the same as mine and many women in between these extremes. I have wooed much younger women in their twenties and much older women in their late Fifties and sixties.

One of my former girl friends would joke to our circle of friends when asked if I had a type, she just smiled, laugh and said any woman with a wet vagina would do. Sadly, I know it was true. I adored women and never had to spend a night alone, but was always lonely.

I appreciate everything about a woman and can find something appealing about any woman I meet. Sometimes it is a hint of mischief in her eyes. Sometimes it is her hairstyle and coloring. Often it is the scent of her perfume or her touch or the way she walks as she enters a room.

My heart beats faster if I see a woman smile a certain way or I hear her giggle and I have made love to them all and never found the right one. In my search for new partners, I found myself once again in the D/s lesbian scene. Remembering, my experimentation with Margo in college, I explored the world of dominant and submissive women.

This time around I played on both sides of D/s play. My roles switched back and forth. first as a dominant and later as a submissive. There was no doubt I found pleasure in this very special and erotic culture, but still no lasting love.

All it did was to confirm deep down I had the soul of a submissive woman. My dates with Dominant women were arousing, but still left me cold and detached for some reason. Play is fun but where is my forever love? Would I ever find her?

Let's jump to this afternoon, a rainy Sunday in New York, but that never stopped me from going out and exploring. As I said before I have been living in the Village's predominantly gay neighborhood for several years. I loved it here due to all the quaint spaces to visit and browse. One of my friends told me about a new sandwich shoppe that had opened and I was determined to get there before the brunch crowd took up all the seating.

I was hurrying down the street, doing my best impression of a football player trying to avoid the puddles on this concrete gridiron and trying to stay dry. My head down, my umbrella covering most of my head like a helmet protecting me from the falling rain. Just the slightest space to see where I was going.

My vision was mostly blocked and I could not really see much ahead of me in the driving rain. I bumped into a couple of women hurrying down the street and reaching for the door just before me. Wrestling with the twisted umbrella and trying to keep from losing it in the wind I bumped right into them. I Looked up to apologize and was swept backwards by another gust of wind and lost my footing on the slick pavement.

Landing in a puddle I got soaked as the words "I'm sorry" were lost in the wind. When I recovered, I hurried into the shoppe and straight to the bathroom to dry off and recover my dignity. Few bathrooms in NYC have towels dispensers any more, just these noisy forced air drier. These loud machines can hardly dry your hands and are totally useless, if you need to dry your face or God forbid your dress.

Making my way back to the main part of the shoppe, still dripping and quite the mess from head to foot. I asked the young waitress if I could have a real towel to dry myself. Looking at me as if I was speaking a foreign language, she seemed confused and flustered by my request for a moment. looking at me as if it was normal to see a rain soaked woman standing there dripping on the floor, she seemed clueless as to what to do. Another waitress came over, took one look at me and directed me to the back office. She was certain the owner would have one for me to use.

Looking more like a wet cocker spaniel than a hip lesbian NY attorney, I made my way to the office off to the side and down the hall to see if I could find help. I knocked on the door, heard a low sultry voice say come in and stood in shock as a face I had not seen in more than Twenty years looked in my direction. For a moment It was like looking into a mirror and yet it was not. We were both blondes and blue eyed, yet every hair on her head was in place and I looked like a drowned rat.

I yelled Margo, just as she yelled Courtney. She jumped up, moved towards me and we melted into each other's arms. My wet dress soaking her as we both laughed and then cried at the same time. We hugged and kissed as we held each other tight... and the years apart just seemed to slip away. Could a chance meeting change my life forever?