Counting To Eleven

Answer unclear, ask again later.

After showing me bearded dragons, long-necked tortoises, and an assortment of other attractions, she came to the last two tanks. They occupied the whole of what had once been her kitchen table. "This is Struan." She crouched in front of a particularly imposing-looking snake. He was almost completely black. As she talked he moved to follow her behind the glass, tongue flicking at the air. "One of our trick-question snakes. He's a tiger snake, but some of them are so dark you can't see the stripes. He's a bit stroppy, so I won't take him out."

I nodded in thanks. I trusted her handling skills, but tigers have enough of a reputation that I was happy to leave Struan where he was.

Kate picked up a steel rod with a curved end, a smaller version of the one I'd seen in the car. "Now this one,"—she opened the last tank and reached in with the rod—"is Bela. Named for Lugosi." She pulled out the rod with Bela wrapped around the end, and took hold of him by the neck. He was black like Struan but with a bright red underbelly that reminded me of a vampire's cape. "Bela's my favourite. Nobody cares about the red-bellies because they're not venomous enough, but I think he's lovely. Would you like to hold him?"

She held him out to me, and I accepted him very carefully. A bite from a red-belly wouldn't kill me, but it would ruin my day nevertheless, so I followed her cues and grasped him firmly just behind the neck. As I ran my other hand down his smooth sleek body to support his tail, Kate continued talking. "We've had Bela for six years, and he's very tame. I could just reach in and pick him up, and he wouldn't bite, but better safe than sorry. Accidents happen."

We stood there, me holding Bela, Kate stroking him, her hands between mine. She had finished talking, and just at that moment I couldn't think of anything to say. The pause in conversation became a break, the break became a gap, the gap stretched out into silence, our hands so close that I could feel her warmth, and yet not quite touching. And for all that I knew it was probably a bad idea, I wanted to sleep with her.

I tried to think of some way to break the ice, but it's hard to be witty when you're holding a venomous snake. Time passed, and before I could come up with something suave the moment passed.

Kate cleared her throat, and I did likewise, and handed Bela back to her. "Thank you so much for this, it's been really lovely. I should get out of your hair now and let you have dinner in peace."

"Oh, it's no trouble. Any excuse to show off my babies. Let me show you out."

We squeezed down the cramped hallway and she opened the door for me. "Thanks again for dropping her back, Linda."

Last chance.

"Thanks for the tour!" Before caution could get the better of me, I stepped in and kissed her. It was supposed to be an ambiguous sort of kiss somewhere between her cheek and her mouth, one that left room for Kate to tell herself: perhaps Lin's just one of those demonstrative people who always kisses her friends goodbye.

But I ended up a little too close to her mouth for that, and I lingered on it a little too long. And still I couldn't quite make out her reaction: she didn't encourage me, but nor did she push me away.

I moved back and looked her up and down. "Unless you'd like me to stay?"

"Um." Was that a trace of a blush? "Didn't you have a film to see?"

"I can skip it. Reviews aren't that great. I'd rather hang out with you. But only if you're okay with that." Then I added, "If you say yes, I will kiss you again later. Just so we're clear on that. And if you say no, I'll stop bothering you right this instant."

"Um. I don't... look, how about you stay for dinner and we can talk about this? But that's not a yes to anything else."

"Fair enough. I promise to behave."

The kitchen was cramped even for one person, so after washing my hands I got out of Kate's way while she chopped up vegetables for a stir-fry. I didn't feel like arguing with Struan and Bela over ownership of the dining table so I sat down on a beanbag near the TV and occupied myself with a textbook about Australian snakes. (I chose the one with the shiniest pictures; I can deal with scientific jargon if I concentrate, but that evening I had other things on my mind.)

After a little while I got to something that surprised me. "Hey, Kate, there's a picture here that looks like a snake giving birth. Don't they lay eggs?"

"Some do, some don't. Copperheads have live young, and I think some tigers. Hey, wanna hear a story about copperheads?"

"Sure, why not? "

Dinner had begun to sizzle on the stove, and she raised her voice to be heard over it. "Guy I knew, worked as a RFS volunteer. Out fighting a big fire around Christmas time, saw a copperhead stranded on a rock. Didn't want to leave it to get burned so he grabbed it, but he didn't have a bag for it. So he just tucked it into the cuff of his overalls."

"That doesn't sound very safe."

"I think it's pretty sturdy material. Anyway, he went back to the fire. It was pretty bad, he was working two days straight without sleep. Got home, threw his overalls over a chair, completely forgot about the copperhead, fell asleep."

"Uh-oh. "

"He woke up about a day later, then he remembered the snake and went to check. You know what he found?"

"No snake?"

"Thirteen snakes. Mum and twelve babies."

"Seriously?"

"Yep! Well, dinner's ready, come get it."

She gave me a bowl of stir-fry and I returned to my beanbag; she sat opposite me in another. For a few minutes we ate in silence—it was pretty good stir-fry—and then she spoke up.

"Linda, I like you, but I'm not looking for somebody at the moment, not until after I finish my Master's. I can't focus on work and study and a relationship."

"Fair enough. Me, I split up with my ex back last year and I'm still licking my wounds." I crunched down a piece of broccoli. "So I'm not good relationship material at the moment. Plus, I don't know you well enough to be talking about that."

"Oh." She frowned. "So then what were you asking...?"

"I'm not looking for a relationship." I set my bowl down on the carpet. "But I'd very much like to go to bed with you. If you're interested."

"I don't really know what to say." She sounded flustered, but at least she was smiling.

"Traditionally the popular answers are 'yes', or 'no'."

But 'yes' is a difficult word. Sometimes it helps to offer a different language, so I added, "Or you could kiss me."

She thought about it, and then she leant over to where I was sitting and kissed me on the lips.

I wanted to glomp on her like a Venus flytrap, but I knew better than to rush things. Instead I just returned the kiss, letting her get comfortable with it, and then I gradually sank backwards into the beanbag and let her follow me down. Only when she'd settled her weight on me did I allow myself to bring my hands around her waist and stroke the small of her back.

Her kisses were tentative, perhaps a little clumsy, but I didn't mind at all. I found it rather cute, and I like to be the more experienced one; I think it's a power dynamic thing. She was a little slower in putting her arms around me, but eventually she seemed to realise that I wasn't about to phone up a moving van and then she let herself get into it. We made out like two teenagers, still both fully clothed, just enjoying the physical contact.

Eventually my right hand drifted up past her collar and I began stroking her neck. That got a reaction, a sigh and a relaxation of her body, and I began exploring that sensitive area, mapping out the zones that triggered that shiver of pleasure. There was something else in the way she reacted, too...

"Kate?"

"Hmm? Yuh?"

I found a spot just behind her ear that made her eyes roll back in her head. "Can I ask a personal question?"

She giggled. "Can it be more personal than the last one? Go ahead."

I ran my left hand down her back, brought it across to stroke down her left arm, down to the back of her hand. "How do you feel about submission?" And I closed my fingers and thumb around her wrist.

She tensed, breathed out, went very quiet. Then she inhaled again and said, "Am I that obvious?"

I held her wrist a little tighter, pulled it back a little. "'Fraid so, cutie. I was getting a certain vibe. Just now, and back in the classroom when I had you bent over the desk."

"Oh?"

"I thought how easy it would be to twist your arm up behind your back, hold you down. And I felt like you knew that too." Slowly but surely I was pulling her wrist behind her as she lay atop me.

"Oh my." She seemed to be very comfortable with her hand pinned behind her back; the other was stroking my face. "You'd have done that?"

"I certainly thought about it." And I shifted out from under her, still pinning her left arm, and as she settled into the beanbag I rolled on top of her, straddling her legs. "I think with your arm behind your back and me holding you down, you'd have had a lot of trouble getting free."

"And then what?"

"Hmm." With my other hand I loosed her shirt from her jeans, slid it up until I was enjoying the same view of her back that I'd had earlier that day, minus snake. "Well, I could have spent some time mauling your breasts." And I slipped my hand up under the strap of her bra, around to the front, cupping her breast with her nipple between my thumb and forefingers as the others began to knead and claw. Not gently; I have strong fingers, and contrary to the lesbian stereotype, fingernails long enough for serious scratching. At first I just let her feel the pressure and the edge, then I began to circle and squeeze, fingers closing around her soft flesh like claws.

I half-rose, sitting astride her, letting go of her hand so I could work my other hand under her as well, pushing the bra up so I had both her breasts in hand. "Kate, I'd like to hurt you just a bit. Is that okay?

"Mmm-hmm." There was a dreamy quality to her voice.

I rolled her over onto her back, taking in the sight of her: face a little flushed, hair rumpled, breasts exposed to my gaze. I could see little crescent-shaped marks where my fingernails had been. I traced them with my fingertips, spiralling in towards her dark areolae; then I started to pinch and claw again, digging my nails in, holding tight. She gasped and whimper, I felt her flinch with every squeeze, but she didn't try to get away. She was breathing heavily now.

"I could have tormented you like this for quite a while." Pinch, scratch, squeeze. "Tested how much it took to make you cry out." I gave both breasts a sudden fierce tweak, nails sharp against her nipples.

"Ah!"

"And then..."

"Mmm?"

I bent down to whisper in her ear. "You know how it is, sweet. You're pinned down, and you can't do anything about it, and you're thinking maybe Miss Linda will be content just to torment your breasts." Another tweak-twist-pinch, another gasp.

"And then she covers your mouth"—I matched my actions to the words—"so nobody can hear you if you squeal. If you need to safeword, baby, grunt three times. Show me."

"Unh. Mrf. Mf."

"Good girl." I gave her nipple another hard tweak, made her squeak into my palm. "Then you feel her hand coming down, reaching for her belt, and you realise you're not going to get to keep your pants on." I took the loose end of the belt, pulled it undone. "And as she's popping your buttons and undoing your zip, you're thinking just how exposed and vulnerable you'll be once she pulls them down. And more helpless than ever, with your pants tangled around your knees."

I tugged them down, hard, along with her underwear. No time for niceties. "Shame I'm not packing tonight, cutie. If I was..." I ground my hips against her, hard, and she pushed back against me. "But I'm sure I can think of something. Let's take this to the bedroom."

I took her by the hair, pulled her up to her knees, and strode down the hall as she scrambled after me on hands and knees.

"Ow! Meanie!"

"That's 'Miss Linda' to you. Got it?"

"Ow! Yes, Miss Linda, before you go in can I tidy—"

"No."

Her bedroom was furnished in Late Modern Impoverished Student style. It had the sort of mess I'd expect of a grad student's room, with a toppled stack of photocopied journal articles and a pile of laundry on the floor. But all I cared about was that there was a bed—a nice high one—with no snakes on it.

"Before we start, where do you keep the party supplies?"

"Let me get them for you." She scrambled over to a bedside table and ferreted around with her back to me. After searching through a couple of drawers she handed me a box of blue nitrile gloves, and a couple of sachets of lube, then scowled at something in a plastic bag. "Well, that's a bit sad."

"Hmm?"

"All my dams are expired. Like, a year out of date."

"No worries. Got a pair of scissors?"

"Somewhere around." She found them and passed them over.

"Here's one I learned in teaching college." I pulled out one of the gloves, snipped off four fingers, and slit them down the side, so that they opened flat with the thumb in the middle.

"Resourceful."

I pulled a glove onto my right hand—it was a tight fit—and grinned at her. "Now, where were we?" I pushed her face-down over the bed, her legs hanging off the end. She'd left her pants behind somewhere on the way to the bedroom but she was still wearing the flannel shirt; I wormed my hands under her, opened most of the buttons at the front, then yanked it back over her shoulders so it was helping me hold her arms back behind her.

"Now, time for a spanking." I swatted her arse, a warning of things to come. "I think a nice round dozen strokes to begin with. How does that sound?"

"Yes, Miss Linda?"

"Good. Count, please." And I began.

SMACK!

"One. Thank you, Miss Linda!"

"Such good manners."

SMACK! On the other side, two hand-prints starting to show on her bum.

"Two! Thank you, Miss Linda!"

SMACK! "Three! Thank you, Miss—"

SMACK! "—Linda! Four, Miss Linda. Thank you!"

I picked up the pace. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! "Five, Miss Linda! Si-six, Miss Linda! Seven, Miss Linda! Eight, Miss Linda!"

Almost there, but I thought I ought to draw it out a bit. Her bum was reddening nicely, and warm. I stroked it, letting my fingertips brush against her pussy from time to time. Every time I got near she bucked against my hand, and I had to tut-tut. "No, dear. I decide when. And 'if', for that matter."

She sighed. "Yes, miss."

SMACK! "Nine, Miss Linda! Thank y—"

SMACK! "Ten, Miss Linda, thank you!"

I stalled again, ran my nails over her increasingly tender backside, traced her labia: matched parentheses that seemed to contain some heat, and a little dampness. "Almost there."

SMACK! "Eleven, Miss Linda, thank you!"

SMACK! "Eleven, thank you miss!"

"Hmm?"

"Eleven, ma'am."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, ma'am. Nine, ten, eleven."

SMACK! "Eleven, thank you miss!" SMACK! "And eleven, thank you!"

"Well, if you're going to be like that, let's get comfortable. And take off that shirt. Yes, the bra too." I released her, and as she hurried to obey I moved a pile of papers aside and sat on the edge of the bed. Then I pulled her across my knee and resumed spanking. With her top gone I could enjoy the sight of her bare back, and this position let me connect a little harder, which both of us appreciated. At least, I assume that's what the squirming and gasping was about. I had a firm grasp on her hair so she couldn't go too far.

Every so often I'd pause the spanking and switch to stroking her instead, rubbing her burning cheeks with my palm or slipping my fingers down to wander suggestively close to her pucker, drifting past, probing between her legs to see how she was doing. (Answer: hot and bothered.)

Then I'd start again, showering smacks over her buttocks and the backs of her thighs, as she did her best to keep count. I was going faster and she was a little out of breath, so I'm not sure that she managed to count every stroke, but at least she was making the effort.

Faster, harder... and every time I stopped, my fingers would intrude a little further between her legs, probe a little deeper, and her legs would spread a little wider. Eventually I slipped my ungloved left hand under her to play with her breasts some more and maul them even as the right fondled her pussy. Pleasure and pain, sweetie.

"How do you feel about getting fucked, girlie?"

She gasped as I squeezed her nipple to emphasise my words. "Oh... do I get a choice?"

"Not really."

"Please."

Still holding onto her breast with my left hand, with my right I reached for the lube—not that I really needed it, but it never hurts. I opened the sachet with the help of my teeth, squeezed it between my fingers, and rubbed them together to spread them around.

"It's your lucky day, Katie." And as I sank my fingernails into her breast as hard as I could manage, I thrust my thumb into her, fingers rammed against her clit. I knew she was already near the edge from the spanking and the teasing she'd experienced, and it didn't take much to push her closer: a few thrusts and twists of my thumb, fingers chasing her clit. "You're going to come for me. For someone you only met a few hours ago, and now you're naked in her lap. Give it up for me."

That was enough to roll her over the edge, and she squealed, and shuddered, and froze in my grasp. I swear I could feel her heartbeat pulsing against my fingers as she went completely rigid, legs clamping around my hand. "Oh, oh, oh..."

Then suddenly she was pulling away from my hand. "Enough, stop."

"Sure!" I released her immediately. "Did I hurt you?"

"No. I mean, I mean, it's good. Really good. But sometimes I get so sensitive after coming, can't bear to be touched there."

"No problem." I ruffled her hair and let my hand rest in the curve of her back. "Otherwise okay?"

"Mmm. Yeah. But I think I'll be sore in the morning."

"I'm not surprised. My hand's stinging a bit too." I was stroking her back, fingertips swirling around the bumps of her spine like eddies in a rocky stream. "Well, catch your breath, cutie, and then it'll be time to do something for me."

"Yes, miss." She'd twisted around so she could look up at me. "Or would you prefer I said 'make me'?"

I couldn't prevent myself chuckling. "An excellent question. Both are good, but right now 'yes, miss' will do nicely.

"Mmm. Give me a couple of minutes." She lay there in my lap, almost purring as I stroked her. It seemed like a good time to ask something that had been on my mind.

"One more personal question?"

"Oh?"

"Do you have a kid?" From the way she tensed up, I knew I'd hit the mark. "It's not a problem if you do. It's none of my business. I was just curious."

"Yeah. I do. There's a photo of him over on the bedside." It took me a moment to see it; it was lying face-down. Had she done that while she was getting the gloves?

I reached over and picked it up. He was a cute lad with a gap-toothed smile; I didn't need to guess his age because he was sitting in front of a racing-car birthday cake with a '5' candle.

"He lives with his dad and stepmum. I visit on weekends. I'm sorry, I should've said. I just thought you might have a—" She broke off.

"That I might have a problem with it?"

She nodded.

"Nope. I like kids, I'd be a pretty crappy teacher if I didn't. And if I ruled out everybody who wasn't a Gold Star lesbian, fuck, I'd be a sexually frustrated hypocrite. Besides, this is just sex, remember?" I stroked her cheek.

"Thanks." She gave my knee a squeeze. "How did you know?"

"Your areolae." I slipped one hand under her and tickled her there. "That colour on a white woman usually means a woman who's been pregnant." She also had a few stretch marks on her belly—nothing too obvious—but it seemed impolite to mention that.