Days Off with Lindsay - Julia

This short was originally written in five parts; however, since only the last one is erotic, I put all five parts together.

The other "days off with Lindsay" stories will be posted soon! Please enjoy.

1

"What did you tell him?" My voice was way higher and more panicked than I'd planned. I'd steeled myself, drank water, and then rehearsed carefully what I would say. But my voice came out a breathy, whiny squeak.

Lindsay laughed. "Girl. Nothing. C'mon."

"He messaged me," I whined. I was sitting on my couch in my apartment, my half-eaten Chinese food left cooling on the coffee table in front of me. I'd been browsing Reddit and saw a notification pop up. Upon further inspection, it was a DM.

From him.

"Fuck, Lindsay, what did you say?"

"Julia. Dude. Would I really break your confidence like that? I swear, I said nothing."

Lindsay and I had been friends for a few months, and had met at a munch in the greater DC area. It was a small group that met in a small bar off the beaten path, but you had to have an invitation to even attend. Reuben Weston organized it, and only invited people he personally trusted. Lindsay had approached me, and we started having coffee and manicure dates together, initially to feel each other out for some playtime, but decided we preferred our dynamic to stay as it was. She was bold, confident, sexy, had a devilish side where she liked to make people uncomfortable on purpose. I was a puddle of a kitten without an owner, desperate for a good beating and a satisfying orgasm that you can't get from a fantasy and a vibrator.

As Lindsay and I got to know each other, my secrets spilled. Although I got to know her personality, she never disclosed personal details about herself other than she was "here for work." But somehow, I still felt comfortable around her. I told her about my desperate desire to be used like a sex toy and owned like a pet. I told her about the hurt I'd felt when my last dom had basically ghosted me after I'd safeworded out of an intense impact session. And I told her about Paul.

Paul was new to our area and had just started coming to our weekly Saturday night munches. He'd been pretty regular over the past few months, and pretty clear he was looking for someone. I'd seen a few girls go home with him, and a few of my other acquaintances had mentioned that they'd done sessions with him before.

And I was stupid jealous.

The thing about Paul was he had this... smirk. His eyes would light up with this wicked glint that, by itself, was enough to give me goosebumps and a clench in my gut. But combined with the little twist of his mouth? And his oddly quiet but velvet smooth voice? Damn. I had masturbated to his voice alone more times than I was willing to admit.

The thing was, he wasn't really into girls like me. He liked tall, skinny blondes with big tits and full lips. They usually wore fishnet stockings and black boots and you could see their pretty red bras through their tank tops. And that just wasn't me. I liked pink too much. I liked soft pink hoodies and comfortable jeans and pink ribbon headbands with little pearl beads on the bow. And I was brunette. And short. And kind of fat.

I'd tried to dress like his type one time, on Lindsay's suggestion. We had raided her closet and she'd found me some black knee high tights, a leather mini skirt, and a thin black tank top. She'd tied a black ribbon around my neck and done my hair up all pretty, and given me some dark red lipstick and heavy eyeshadow. "Ta-da! Perfect Paul material!" she'd announced, turning me around to see myself in her mirror.

I'd winced at the sight.

"What! Dude you're hot. I'd fuck you." She smacked my ass and I let out a yelp, and she laughed at my response.

I shook my head at the heavy makeup and the black socks and skirt that was horrifyingly too short. "I can't wear this," I grimaced. "You can practically see my clit hanging out of this skirt."

"I mean, only if he's on the ground looking up at you. Which would be the ideal situation actually."

"I don't look like me... I don't feel like me." She'd looked at me then with a seriousness in her eyes and I thought she was going to argue. We spent all this time dressing you up, you going dressed like this, bitch. That's what she'd say. I shrugged. "I'm sorry."

She sighed deeply, gave me her customary side-smirk, and helped me get it all off again. I'd gone to the munch wearing my soft black corduroy pants, pink crop top, and my hoodie with cat ears on top. I just couldn't refuse that thing, it was so comfortable.

Lindsay had joked in the past that people were starting to assume I was her pet, since we always sat together. "You're not going to find anyone if you keep following me around," she'd nudged me with her boot towards an empty table.

"And neither am I. Go, sit." Knowing she was right, I downed the rest of my martini, ordered a second, and dragged myself to the table near the window. I felt her smirk as I walked away.

I watched Lindsay from a distance while different people approached her. She was magnetic in her energy, and once you got a taste of her proximity, you wanted more of it, even if she never touched you or even spoke to you. Mysterious and slightly terrifying, and just enough of a brat to make people want to smack her sometimes. She was entertaining, she knew it, and she liked it. She was tall, five foot nine or ten, nearly two-hundred pounds of solid muscle, and with her knee-high leather boots she usually came up to eye level to most of the guys. Her long brown hair was usually tied up in a messy ponytail, and her bright green eyes were in contrast to her flawless ivory skin. She hung out at the bar, leaning up against it and drinking the free drinks that people seemed to line up to buy her. Nobody really knew what her thing was, or what she wanted. But they couldn't stay away.

I spent the night chatting with a few other people, some I knew, some I didn't. But it felt like nobody saw me. I was furniture. Look, there's a table that's mostly open. That girl in pink won't mind.

I noticed when Paul came in. He had this easy air to him, walking with a saunter, his arms loose and his eyes scanning the room confidently. That subtle smirk on his lips made me flush from my eyelids to the tips of my toes. His eyes went right over me, never pausing. He'd gone straight to the bar, and I'd watched out of the corner of my eye as he'd chatted, talked, and laughed with some of the more confident and attractive people in the room. I'd nearly choked on my drink when he'd sidled up to Lindsay and they'd started chatting. It was a short conversation, but whatever she'd said, his eyes had gotten that heated glow and that subtle smirk on his lips matched her more pronounced one. He'd shrugged away from her and gone off into one of the other rooms. I'd asked her afterwards what she'd said, and she had told me that he'd invited her to help out a poor masochist who needed some extra TLC.

So Tuesday night when I got home from a long day of work with my Chinese food, and I opened Reddit to browse inappropriate memes and daydream, and I saw a message from Paul, I about choked.

u/pm02: Hey, you okay?

What. The. Fuck. Was. I. Supposed. To. Say.

I'd called Lindsay right away.

"Tell me exactly what he said." I could hear something crackling in the background, like she was frying something.

I read her the message.

"That's it? That's all this is about?"

"Lindsayyyy" I wailed softly. "I don't know what to do." My brain was literally mush.

"Have you replied yet?"

"No," I squeaked out. My hands and feet felt numb and the back of my neck was all prickly in nerves.

"Oh so you left him on 'read'?"

"Lindsay I need your help."

"You're such a baby. Okay. Say, 'Hey, I'm fine. What's up?' and tell me if he replies."

My heart was in my chest as I responded, my fingers tripping over the keys. I had to re-type the message four times before I got it spelled correctly.

"Did you send it?"

"Yeah... God, why did he message me? You were talking to him the other night, what did you sayyyy?"

"I didn't say anything about you, I promise. He was asking me about helping him and Ben on Monday."

I kept refreshing my page hoping for a response. I could hear voices in Lindsay's background. Two male voices talking, but no voices were defined.

"Am I... interrupting?"

Her voice was firm. "No. Work shit."

Finally a response came up. I felt that renewed buzz in the back of my neck of adrenaline and nerves.

"Oh God, he answered."

"What did he say?" she sighed, almost sounding exhausted. Didn't she understand how serious this was? I didn't even know Paul knew my name, let alone my Reddit username. I'd posted some of my fantasies there!

I read the message carefully before reading it out loud. "You usually sit with Lindsay, but you were alone last week. You looked upset." I groaned a little. "Did I look upset?"

"uh, a little melancholy, yeah, but it was cute in a kind of sweet, pitiful way. Looks like it worked out for you."

"Lindsay. What. Do. I say."

"You're such a scaredy-cat. Just... tell him you are trying to meet new people. That's true, right?"

"I don't want to meet new people," I murmured. "I want him to tie me up and use me as a cumrag."

She laughed on the other end of the line. "Okay, listen, I'll text you what you should respond to him. Let me know what he says." With that she hung up, not leaving me time to argue or ask any more questions.

"Okay," I said a little too late as I pulled my phone from my ear and held it in my hands, waiting for it to light up. I kept re-checking my DMs but there was nothing new from Paul.

Paul was objectively handsome, and totally out of my league. He was about a foot taller than me, narrow hips, wide shoulders, and dark eyes. I could tell he worked out, but he wasn't one of those super bulky muscular guys, just fit and toned. His semi shaggy dark brown hair hung over his forehead slightly. His eyes were dark brown and he had slightly tanned skin, and a beautiful sharp nose. He always looked like he came straight from work, and wore black dress pants and a button-down shirt, his cuffs smartly buttoned and his clothes always pressed. There was something about a well-dressed man with a smirk...

I, on the other hand, was objectively boring. I was almost five feet tall, DD boobs that sagged too much, large thighs that chaffed because they rubbed together too often, and a bit of a belly that I could never seem to get rid of. I'd always been a little heavy for my height and I hated it, but no matter what I'd done nothing seemed to help, so I'd resigned myself to my size 12's and learned to live with it. My face was round-ish, I had brown hair and brown eyes and freckles on my white, boring, easily flushed and untanned skin.

It wasn't that I hated my reflection, it's just that I didn't really find myself attractive. And clearly neither did a lot of other people. I'd met some people last year who I'd played with but our relationships had kind of petered out. I could have called Reuben or Sanaii if I needed it badly enough, but I didn't want Reuben or Sanaii. I wanted Paul. I wanted him to call me a whore and choke me while he fucked my asshole.

I shifted in my seat, trying not to spiral down too far.

My phone finally buzzed, from Lindsay. "Say, 'Thanks for checking in on me. I was a little out of it. People keep assuming I'm Lindsay's pet, and that's not helping me get laid.'"

"I am not sending that," I stammered, but nobody was there to hear me. After a few minutes, I knew I had to send him something, because he was clearly waiting for my response based on how quickly he'd sent the other message. I altered the message slightly and sent it, double checking I wasn't typing something stupid like "please slap me" or "I want your dick in my throat."

u/jk_lol: Thanks for checking on me :) I was a little out of it... Lindsay says people think I'm her pet, so she wouldn't let me sit with her.

u/pm02: Yeah... they do think that. You're not?

u/jk_lol: no we are just friends.

u/pm02: So... you're looking?

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. I called Lindsay again. She didn't answer so I sent a text with a screenshot of the conversation and a text: help me!

But Lindsay didn't answer. She was probably eating dinner. Or maybe she'd lied about "work stuff." I didn't want to interrupt her session for my drama. She'd eat me alive. And not in a fun way.

I braced myself, tried to relax, and sent a response.

u/jk_lol: Yeah, kinda.

Kinda? I was kinda looking for someone? I was absolutely looking for something. Anything, if it was with him. I put my phone down and rubbed my eyes, trying to get my brain to function again.

Paul didn't respond right away. Shit, should I say something else? Did I come across too strong? Should I add a smiley face?

I got up and paced, poured myself a glass of cheap white wine, drank most of it in a few gulps, refilled my glass, and hurried back to where my forgotten lo mein was getting cold. Paul hadn't responded. I tried shoveling a few more bites of my food down but it tasted like chalk.

God, why was I so obsessed with this man? Yeah he was hot, and generally speaking he was a nice guy, and his gorgeous quiet whisper of a voice made me want to curl up and hump his leg, but I barely knew the guy. He had a really good job, a dentist or something, and even though he was only a few years older than me, he had a really nice car, and a gorgeous house. He was well-respected in the community, though, and Reuben vouched for him.

I finally got a message back from Paul, and I clicked, my fingers slightly sweaty from my nerves and the alcohol.

u/pm02: You'll be there Sunday, right?

u/jk_lol: Yes!

u/pm02: hm... I might know a guy ;) See you then?

My heart sank. God, he was going to try to set me up with one of his friends. I let out a soft moan as I slunk back on my couch, sent him a thumbs-up emoji, and finished my bottle of wine.

2

"Great job, Jules!" Lindsay shoved my shoulder a little. "You look great. Do you feel great?"

"I feel like I'm going to regret this," I muttered. Instead of my regular cords and hoodie, I'd worn my cutest black t-shirt with a semi plunging neckline, and jeans that showed off my ass. Okay the neckline wasn't really plunging. But the jeans did look really good. If I was being honest, my ass was probably my best feature. And the cute washed out jeans with jewels on the pockets only drew attention to my curves.

"Listen, even if it doesn't pan out, at least people noticed you're available now, right?"

I nodded.

"See? So, just keep playing the game. Don't worry, eventually you'll score some points."

She had a point. She'd been saying this all week, trying to psych me up. Paul wasn't all there was, after all. There were plenty of very attractive men who attended our events, and plenty of those who weren't necessarily Greek gods on earth but who also had a good reputation and knew what they were doing. If I was being honest, there were several doms I'd met who I was definitely interested in. I was just too stupidly shy to walk up to any of them. And none of them had that voice.

That night at the munch, I sat at one of the tables that was close enough to the bar that I could hear Lindsay's voice if I listened hard enough, but so that she wasn't directly in my line of sight. I couldn't stop fidgeting, fixing my shirt, trying to decide if I should leave my bra strap showing or tuck it back under, trying to figure out what I should do with my hands and arms. Together to press my boobs together? Or relaxed and on the table?

A martini appeared by my elbow. I looked down at it in surprise, and when I looked up, Paul was sitting across from me, sipping something out of a short glass, his lips barely pressed against the rim of the glass.

Gods and demons please don't let me be a blushing, blubbering mess. I stared at him for a second, and then somehow forced my hands to pick up the glass without spilling it, carefully holding it to my lips and taking a small sip. I fought the urge to look behind me at Lindsay.

"thank you."

"Enjoying your evening so far?"

I nodded.

"Good." He set his drink down, swirling it once and watching it move slowly and come to a stop in his glass. I kept sipping on the glass, knowing I was downing it way too quickly and I was going to regret it. I had a habit of spitting out random dumb shit when I got too tipsy. He watched me drink, and I felt like his eyes were physically touching me, running over my face and my cheeks and my mouth. I almost choked, so I set the glass down and cleared my throat.

"Long week?" he asked softly. Damn there was that voice, like a siren call into my ears and forcing my head to swim. This was miserable. And unfair.

I took a deep breath and prepared to say something, but I wasn't sure what else to say. It had been a long week, between my job at the restaurant full of angry customers, and the high tension of my obsession with him coming to a point with his message. So instead of answering, I just let out my breath and nodded, looking at my hands.

"Yeah. I know the feeling." I looked up from my hands and he gave me that delicious tiny smirk he did, and I treasured it like a gift wrapped up in a box, or a truffle that slowly melted away. Just that tiny purse of his lips and a tiny quirk on the corner of his mouth, his eyes narrowing slightly. I felt my heartbeat setting between my legs. Not knowing what else to do, I reached out and took my glass again.

You're fucking this up, I thought to myself. He's going to think you're a desperate needy slut and laugh at you. Say something. But I couldn't. My mouth felt like it was full of cotton.

"Where do you work," he asked, trying to make conversation.

"Oh, um," I tripped over my words. "the uh..." why couldn't I remember where I worked? "the place down the road. Brueggers. The bakery." Talking helped clear my head and steady my heart rate a little. "well, it's not a bakery. Not really. Bagels. They sell bagels. We sell them, I mean. And sandwiches. Soup too. It's not very good though."

Shut up, Julia. Shut your mouth. I took another sip, finishing my martini, and awkwardly holding the empty glass while I stared at his stupid perfect face.

"Yes," he said, calmly with just a hint of humor in his voice. "I know the place."

"Yeah, I work there," I said. Like a dumbass. Shit. It was already starting.

"Do you want another one of those," he gestured to my empty glass that I was gripping firmly.

"Oh. Yes. Well, actually, that's probably not a good idea," I said softly, more as an afterthought. "they're really good though."

Don't. fuck. This. Up.

He stood and left to get me another drink and I squinted my eyes closed for just a moment, and then opened them again, taking a deep breath. I glanced over at Lindsay for a second. She was grinning into her Old Fashioned, no cherry. She raised an eyebrow at me and I blushed and turned back around.

This is good, I thought. This is fine. Paul is just talking to me to decide if he should introduce the guy he knows to me, or if I'm a total idiot dweeb.

He returned with another drink for both of us, taking my empty glass from my slightly clammy hands and replacing the glass with the fresh one. Our fingers touched for just a second, and his cool fingers sent a zing through me. In my mind, for just a split second, I imagined his fingers trailing down my neck, between my breasts, and then lower, knowing he'd have that delicious smirk on his face when he did it. My finger felt like it had little invisible electric critters sitting on it, itching and tingling just a bit.