Flower on the Hook Pt. 04 - Final

Dot's chest thumped painfully and her hands shook so she could only imagine what Chris was feeling. "Mark?" she said.

The woman numbly nodded. "He was one of my teachers, and one of my mom's clients... said he'd pay a grand if he could have my first time."

"I see."

"Thanks for not saying sorry." Chris said. "Not your fault, not your problem. I'm the one who's sorry; this isn't supposed to be a pity party after all."

Dot knew she couldn't tell the woman how attractive her pitiful look was, felt ashamed to be thinking of her in that way after a story like that. "Please don't worry about it. I can't say that it's not my problem when I'm the one still using you like that... we can finish the day out without more-" She looked to make sure the garcon wouldn't come out at an inopportune moment. "-sex. Okay?"

Their food arrived soon enough. It only strengthened Dot's determination in the course she'd chosen, hearing that story; she'd been complicit in it, no matter how Chris felt about it. Dot thought back on the weeks she'd spent in carnal gluttony and felt sick to her stomach. She had to cut it off.

Just one last day...

-o-

Odd, she should have been crying, Chris thought. In fact, it felt more like a weight had been lifted, she ate something with more vegetables than she'd seen on one plate at once in years, with a fancy name she didn't dare pronounce for fear of Dot laughing behind her back, and she was... happy? She watched Dot picking from her plate and thought the girl really did eat like a bunny rabbit: little nibbles. Absolutely adorable.

How long had it been since she'd been able to say she was at peace with the person by her side? For years, there had only been three people who knew that story, and two of them didn't dare show their faces, but now there was one more and Chris found herself thinking she could stand to see her every single day, every morning even.

Looking out across the valley, she felt like a goddess, peering down from atop a cloud. All the little struggles she had down there were so far away, like she could turn straight around and walk away from her entire life without a care. She could do what she was doing anywhere, barely paid for her apartment in the first place thanks to her landlord's libido. But she could go anywhere and do what she was doing, and she still hadn't gone more than ten miles from the place she was born.

Sure, a trip out of state once in a while for school, but being so close to the border made that inevitable, like stepping foot on another world but only for the day. That wasn't real; the real world was with mom. And though the city grew around her as she grew up, changed her world, she was never too far away to crawl back to mommy.

"You know, Dot, I'm really having a nice time today." she said, "I know it's a little more,I don't know, subdued, than you planned for in the first place. Really, I don't think I've been on a real date in more than a decade."

"I am paying you, though." Dot said quietly into her salad.

"By paying for the movie and this? Oh, don't think I forgot about that nice pair of undies, but don't you think that's more of a gift for you than it is for me? That's just what any guy would do on a day out with his girlfriend." Chris reached over and snatched up a cherry tomato that Dot had been playing with on the end of her fork. "How does it feel, being the boyfriend?"

The girl ruminated on this as she so often did. Thought she was being clever taking her first full bite in ten minutes to buy herself a little more time.

Dot said, "You know you can't be my girlfriend... Father would never allow that."

Right, that whole thing. Chris got up from a clean plate and leaned over the valley, and noticed as she folded her arms to rest over the railing that her fingers were shaking, her throat ached. "So, I think you might be takin' that too far, you know? Like, nobody cares these days if you're a dy- lesbian, or a fag. That's a war that's been won, I think, and it's only, like, churchy folks who aren't with the times yet." she said.

"You haven't heard him."

"Well... he's your dad, you know? I know he's gotta love the heck outta you." Because I do... really? "Even mine says he does, and I'm... this." That wasn't entirely true; the few times he'd tried to reach out over the years, she'd cut him off before he had the chance to say anything like that. "I don't like seeing you like this. Someone like you deserves to love whoever she wants, you know?"

"It's not that simple." Dot said. She seemed to have forgotten the purpose of food is to be eaten. "I don't want to lose him. I worry he would throw me out."

Chris didn't think someone capable of tossing his only daughter out like trash could raise someone like Dot. But. "It wouldn't have to be all or nothing. If it's about how you live, you can trust me especially that you can live off less money than you would think. Even if the worst happened, and you couldn't continue the way you are now, there would still be time to live your life and hope he eventually came around."

"You think I should leave home and live like you?"

"No." Chris snapped, "Definitely not like me. But you're a smart one, there's no end to the things you could support yourself with. And in the meantime, you wouldn't be pulling your pretty hair out worrying about being seen with your girlfriend."

Checking that nobody was watching through the window, Chris came to Dot's side and knelt at her feet, cradled the girl's tender cheek in her hand. So, I love this girl... and holding her in public brings stressful tears to her eye. Chris brought the pliant head down to her, placed a chaste kiss on quivering lips.

Chest pained and thumping, Chris swallowed her feelings and leaned back over the railing where Dot couldn't see her own start of tears. "Go on, eat up before they bring out the second course."

Behind her, plates clattered as the garcon brought in their main course: some cut of a special bird with a sticky, fruity sauce and brioche toast. Dot, of course, went about cutting her meal into bite-sized pieces, while Chris made a weird sandwich.

"You know," she said, "I don't think I've ever had more than one course. Ice cream after something, sure, but this is something else. Is it right that you people sometimes have a dozen of 'em?"

Dot smiled, she had been a little bit ever since Chris took her first sloppy bite of a fifty dollar lunch. "It's not what you're thinking. With dinners like those, each dish is very small, exactly so you don't eat too much to enjoy them all. And they aren't common at all, maybe two or three of them a year."

"So what, you get two spoonfuls of lobster and like an ounce of steak?"

"No, father is allergic to shellfish. But you more or less have the idea. And sometimes a little something between courses to clear the palate."

Chris nodded, her fanciest meal in the last year had been a microwaved hunk of lobster pilfered from a sleeping client's fridge. Quietly, she removed the cut of meat from between her slices of toast and cut off a teensy piece.

Lunch ended on a good note with a strawberry-filled crepe each and Dot left behind a tip that made Chris think she should quit and become a waitress. Her eraser-headed bodyguard picked them up and it was back on down the hill they went. Like descending from Olympus, Chris felt like she was turning in a toga and a halo even though it was just the very scaleable top of a nearby hill.

And Bernadotte, who hadn't even taken the time to appreciate a view she'd doubtless seen over and over again, ended up with a halo. It had been the thought before, that the girl was simply better than her, dragged down to her level, and seeing her in her own element only brought the fact of it to the forefront of Chris' mind. But now, she couldn't exactly say she resented it. After all, no matter how it happened, the two of them were together.

One drive later, with the entertainment of watching Dot squirm from her lack of underwear against the leather, they arrived in the next town over. Dot had to rely on her phone's map to lead them through downtown, an area singularly inhospitable to the long car, then into a nondescript building, up an elevator, and onto the floor of a tastefully decorated store.

Neither of them had actually gone shopping for underwear before, not in person, but at least Dot had the advantage in having to look up the location in the first place. As for Chris, she'd been expecting something akin to the shops she'd seen in passing at the mall, too garishly pink and out in the open to consider going inside when she was young and naive enough to be there in the first place. There were no models plastered on the walls, almost not a splash of pink aside from the actual racks of underwear, and the woman who met the two of them at the entrance wore a dress shirt, a vest and tie, and a sheer, black skirt, greeted them with a subdued, professional smile and an honest-to-god bow.

"Please, do let me know if you would like any help, today." she said, waited the second it took for either of them to take her up on the offer, and stepped away to allow them free reign.

It took Chris almost actually pushing to get Dot inside, hands clenched before her and red from ear to ear. Down one aisle and out of sight, the girl relaxed somewhat despite the swaddling of undies all around her.

Best not to bring it up, Chris thought, or she might burst a blood vessel. "Well, here we are. What did you wanna see on me?"

Dot took hold of her skirt. "Can I get something first?"

"Depends, would it matter if I said no?"

"No," she admitted.

"Can I pick what I want you to wear?"

"I won't promise to buy whatever you want for me, but okay."

Now, Chris did run through her mind putting the cutie into the frilliest, pinkest thing in the entire shop and surreptitiously taking some saucy pics. Though the attendant did look like the sort who would take exception to that sort of thing in her respectable establishment and kick them out. Beside that, Chris set her eyes on the muse-like beauty of her petite lover, how Dot's lack hair fell on her shoulders, the one strand which without the girl's notice had blown up and across her forehead. She flinched as Chris reached to swipe it back into place, but then settled into her palm and accepted the petting.

Dot said calmly, "They don't have the crotchless type, here. So don't think about it."

"That hurts," Chris said, faux clutching her pearls, "I'm thinking purple... satin. That would look nice on you."

They did find some, and Chris had a field day picking out pair after pair in purple, blue, and red: the ones she though would stand out the best against Dot's pale skin and the ones which were the softest against her fingertips. And Dot did the same, picking carefully and mostly in the reds, one in yellow.

That wasn't the end of it, where they could simply try them all on in the back. Dot had the attendant take their sizes and find the same styles, walking away from the counter to the changing rooms with subtly better fitting pieces. Worth it, finding out that Dot was in fact an A-cup, putting her two whole ranks below Chris, who wore the fact with pride and a puffed chest.

The changing room was large enough to hold them both, just, and who would blame two friends from sharing if they were going to be showing off to each other anyway? It was Dot's justification, one which had the distinct flavor of being rehearsed in a bathroom mirror for the last several days in case they ran into any sort of opposition. But it was all for nought, as the two of them seemed to be the only ones interested in getting underwear that day and the attendant didn't seem to care whether they took one curtain-divided space or the lot of them.

So they took one, shut the curtain on the outside world, and changed with their backs to one another. Dot, it was noticed, chose to take the side which faced the booth's full-length mirror. Even now, when there were no other eyes to see and nothing to stop her from indulging herself, the sweet girl was still sneaking peeks from someone who would without hesitation show every square inch she had. How charming, to be holding onto the pretense even now.

However, when Dot had slipped into her sleek, purple undies, she turned to find Chris scanning her for everything she was worth, hip cocked and chest puffed up to get the full effect out of the yellow, lacy number the girl had chosen specially for her.

Did Dot think she couldn't see the hunger behind her eyes? There had to be classmates of hers who had noticed her being conveniently placed to view wonderful angles. Why none of them had taken the initiative in grabbing up this squishy, squirmy girl was lost on Chris. After all, it seemed to her that most college girls were at least bi, or was that just something she'd learned off television?

She had to admit, even as she was sliding her arms around the slender shape of her lover, a couple fingers dipping beneath the satin for a taste of her butt's softness, that she herself hadn't seen the appeal in another woman either. Still didn't, in fact, she thought as her lips met Dot's in the enclosed space, the girl's bated breath falling on her ears and lips like lily petals opened to accept her. No, whatever deep part of the brain which dealt with physical attraction had been burnt out so long ago that Chris couldn't remember what type she'd held; This was...

She felt Dot's hands come between them, pushed them apart by fragments of an inch to gather her breath. Chris led the girl's hand to cup her breast over the lace, kissed her again and again as if taking sips of her flavour. There could be no way Dot wouldn't feel how hard the nipple tickling against her palm was becoming.

For once, at last, the two came together, Dot allowing Chris to press her against the wall, returning the woman's tempered pecks with flashes of supple tongue, her forgotten hand resting on Chris' hip, her thumb absentmindedly looping beneath the thin strap it found there. It didn't feel like before, when one or the other was dragging their partner kicking and screaming to mere orgasm, but as though the two were lapping together like ripples meeting on the surface of a calm pond. Little signs of affection floated on the surface, bobbing to their rhythm. A kiss here, a squeeze there, not quite mindless self-satisfaction, but the sort of natural petting that felt almost as if their hands had minds of their own, like a circled fingertip against tender skin or a lapping tongue against a lip were cosmically ordained, inevitable.

A noise from outside broke the surface tension. Just the tap of the attendant's foot as she walked by the entrance to the changing rooms, but Chris and Dot looked at each other, entangled as they were with one another, and giggled to themselves.

Dot did push Chris off. And she took on what Chris had to imagine was her idea of a sexy look. Ass high, feet spread, looking back over her shoulder with her humble chest twisted into sight. She couldn't hide how she pressed her shoulders together to give the impression she was working with more than she was. "What do you think?" she asked.

I think I want you to take it off. "Very nice, classy even." Chris actually said. She took a bent-over pose, looking up at Dot who was drinking in the much more impressive valley on full display between Chris' hanging tits. "How does it look, the yellow?"

Seriously, how had this girl gone this long without being dragged out of the closet, with a gulped-down reaction like that? So, she was even salivating at the thought of it, Chris could almost see the fantasy playing behind those eyes of lying in her lap while drinking from those breasts. Chris seriously considered telling the girl that she did in fact have the sort of pills she'd need to make that dream come true, felt a twinge run between her thighs at the thought of the girl drinking Chris' very own milk.

Dot said, "It's... too close to your actual skin tone. It almost looks like you're naked."

I could be, if you want. "Yeah? Maybe the red's better." Coward, just tell her already, get it over with.

"I think so. And if you grew your hair out, I think red goes well with blonde hair." Dot reached to stroke Chris' head and the woman nearly flinched. But it felt too nice, being ruffled for the first time in ages. "I mean, I like it short, too, but there's so much you can do with it if it's longer. and you could always take it back down later."

"Right... I don't think I've had long hair in the last decade..."

The lapping aura between them faltered a moment as they realized why. Hair pulling hadn't been the worst of it, but it was the easiest thing about it to stop in its tracks. Now, getting slapped across the face when she exited the bathroom with the scissors, that had hurt.

Chris took one of Dot's silky braids and lifted it to her lips, the old pain faded into the background. Then, without letting Dot look away, she reached behind her back and released the bra strap, let it fall. She wiggled out of the panties, heart warming by the second as Dot's squirming hips did their thing.

-o-

Too much, this was way too much to handle. Dot wavered on her feet, too far gone past the line of self restraint to look away as Chris stood before her, naked as Eve. All she could do was put on the brakes, slow things down to a crawl so she wouldn't go to her knees in the middle of a store to kiss those pink, glistening lips.

She did, after too long looking, slip out of the underwear Chris had picked out for her, no longer capable of caring whether she saw the telltale spot of wetness on the purple satin. Chris would press forward, she was certain. But the woman didn't do a thing.

There they were, nude and packed together closely, but Chris stood back and stared, taking in the sight of Dot nervously jittering in place.

"Aren't you going to try the next pair?" Chris said, offering the lacy, red number she'd picked out. "I think you'd look like a vampire princess in this one. With one of those poofy, black dresses, short enough to get a peek up and a flash of red?"

Dot, in taking the pair, lightly grabbed Chris' wrist and brought it to her lips. She nibbled, only noticing what she was in the process of doing when she heard a restrained moan from above. "Sorry!" Dot spun in place and began slipping into the lingerie, stopped as she had the panties pulled halfway up her thighs when Chris came from behind, one hand sliding across her hip and down between her legs.

Through the plump feeling pressed against her back, Dot thought she could feel the woman's heart racing in double step from her own. A very light touch of teeth on her neck paired with a twirl around a wetted clit with one fingertip would have made Dot curl into herself with sensation had Chris not drawn her close with her other arm barred across her modest breast.

"You know," Chris breathed against Dot's skin, "If you were one, I think I'd be alright with seeing my blood on your lips. That deep, dark red would be so amazing against your complexion. We should get some nice lipstick for our next date... cherry sauce? Something for you to lick up at least. And are you alright with contacts? Red color contacts to really pull the whole thing together."

There wouldn't be a next time, there couldn't be. Dot dumbly nodded, hoping Chris wouldn't go and spend her money on toys that wouldn't end up being used.

More firmly, Chris rubbed her fingertip against that amazing spot, Dot trapped in electric ecstasy halfway in the process of covering herself. But she loved it, being given licence to give in to her baser nature, to debase herself how she saw fit.

She turned in Chris' arms, the grip pliably moving out of her way, sliding still against her skin and keeping her enfolded. The fingertip which had been tormenting her clit now resided against the pucker of Dot's butthole with a gentle prodding which promised something wonderful with the smallest sign of assent. The panties slipped down around her ankles, the pretence expended. They kissed, Dot's lip sucked as they came apart, as if Chris couldn't bear their embrace coming to an end.