Impact 11: of Amends

"Eat my pussy whore."

My ears ring with the slur, but my lips part and the tip of my tongue peeks out and rests on my painted lip as I bend my arms and crane my neck.

'If she had ordered me that way the very first night would I have obeyed?' I wonder as I flatten my tongue, showing it to her.

Her pussy is so close I can already taste her in the air. But I am looking into Claire's eyes. She is watching me with cold detachment, with seemingly no care or interest - without the smallest hint of doubt. I think of the way I did everything Darci had told me to do; of waking up in Rebekah's bed, the taste in my mouth, how my jaw ached, how my tongue had felt swollen and tired. I shiver, sure that I would have obeyed Claire, no matter what she called me.

My hands are shaking as I place them on the insides of her thighs for the first time. My breath catches and shakes as I point my tongue and I lick the milky pearl of cum before it slips from Claire's pussy, and push my tongue into her for the first time; hear her suck air through her teeth in pleasure. I curl my tongue and split Claire up the middle, pulling through her wet depths for the first time. She drenches my mouth, the smooth walls of her cunt embrace me and tasting her for the first time makes me want to swoon.

The smooth, particularly feminine caress of her perfectly hairless lips against my nose and cheeks. The weeping muscle wall gripping my tongue. My lips kissing her wet folds, the tangy taste of her, the remote self satisfied expression - all seems to crash down on me as I suck and lick and kiss her pussy with sudden urgency. I am using every part of my mouth to please her, even my teeth as I draw the fragile folds of her most intimate self through my smiling jaw. I am moaning with delight, lost in the feeling and taste of her. Her hands are in my hair at times pulling me to my work, and then cradling my skull like a treasure. It's only then that I look up expecting to see disdain, but see the mask has slipped. The corners of her mouth curl into the ghost of a smile.

At first I imagine that the girl who spilled wine on her is making amends, pleasing her, but then I see through the fantasy. See how happy she is for me, the real me, her Young Sarah. And I realize I am happy, that I want this, that she's giving me this, and I'm grateful.

There is real affection in her eyes. The mask entirely abandoned, she is smiling down at me with joy and wonder.

Her eyes are glistening, cheeks flush, breasts rising with heaving breaths - she flexes her shoulders, drawing them back and together. Arching her back, almost as if it were spasming.

"Oh Sarah!"

My tongue slides easily through her, she is so wet, I am drinking her, the taste is light and clean. The fragrance is just that - a perfume I can't help finding intoxicating, breathing deeply as I lap at her open cunt.

"OH FUCK SARAH!"

I feel her hands in my hair and realize I've closed my eyes, that I am bearing down, fully engrossed, focusing on my lips and tongue, on her every small movement and sigh, every change of temperature. Not only is she heating my mouth, but she feels feverishly warm under my hands.

"OH SARAH I LOVE THIS! THIS!"

I slide my tongue upwards, feel her hidden prominence, still under its fleshy hood. I suck, bringing my hands up to either side of my face and draw her skin upwards, exposing my little gem. My lodestar. I drag my tongue around her flesh, feeling her under my tongue, her movements, I can feel her hips rising pressing herself into my mouth.

"OH GOD SARAH!! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH SARAH!!!"

My ears still rang with Claire's cries as I stepped through the turnstile and onto the subway platform. She had slumped, twitching and laughing while I kissed her thighs and looked up at her. Once she recovered she leapt to her feet and helped me off my knees, leading me back to the bathroom to clean me up and repair my makeup. She had babbled happily about her trip, packing, the day ahead - all as if nothing had happened. And I had gone along with her, said nothing.

'Had anything happened?' I wondered for the umpteenth time. My mind went back and forth between the idea that something profound had happened and nothing had happened.

'Should I have told her I love her too?' I wonder. 'What would it even mean?'

With Danny, I'd known exactly what it had meant when I told him I loved him. I'd seen the future those words had conjured: the kind of wedding my mother would like, the kind house my father would approve of, the children our congregation would embrace. It had all made me miserable, but I'd seen it and I knew he had, but more importantly that my mother and father had - that it had made them happy.

All I could picture with Claire was now. I loved what we were doing, never wanting it to end, but had no idea what that would actually mean.

Meanwhile, I had soaked her mothers panties, rubbing myself furiously through the skirt as she had jerked and gasped in her post-coital bliss. I had been hampered by the tight fabric, but not entirely frustrated- it had been enough. I had pressed my face into her wet pussy as I'd cum, smearing my makeup. And while Claire had redone my makeup, she had insisted I not change out of her mother's soiled trunks. Under the architectural perfection of her pencil dress I was a sagging swampy mess.

The train's arrival was announced by a sudden explosion of sound. As soon as it came to a stop the crowd around me began to shift and compress, arranging themselves to either side of the doors, impatiently allowing the riders inside to get out. I shuffled on with the others, the car was crowded, which was just as well, because I flinched any time anything touched me from behind - I couldn't have possibly sat comfortably on the shaking fiberglass seats.

As I'd walked out the door Claire had finally given me the swat on the ass I'd expected in front of the mirror. I'd yelped and hopped straight up into the air. Even if the car had been empty, I would have stood. It was going to be a long day sitting at my desk.

I tried not to think of that. For now I was on my feet. In Claire's heels I was as tall as most of the men in the car. I kind of liked that, even if I felt silly taking the subway in my office dominatrix drag. I also felt sexy. That my panties were a sticky wet mess somehow added to the thrill.

I told myself that my little trench coat made me less conspicuous, even as I felt eyes on me. I tugged at the back of the coat, remembering how Claire's skirt had made my ass look in the mirror - was it really swollen or was it the dress?

I thought again of the look in Claire's eyes as she spanked me and shivered. She'd been so turned on, her lips parted and wet, her cheeks flushed and eyes a bit glazed - really turned on. But there'd been something else there. That wild thing I felt when she called me names... got rough with me. She'd apologized for that; said it was frustration, it seemed to me that it was something more, a deep part of her psyche; an abandon I had never reached in myself.

And as surprising as her excitement had been, it was my reaction to that wildness that had shocked me more. I had offered my ass to her imagining I was sacrificing myself for her, expecting her to fuck it, and expecting to hate it. I had been afraid it would hurt but had wanted to surrender myself to her, show her she could have anything she wanted, then she had made me want it. I'd sobbed with the pain of her spanking, but wanted her to keep striking me. I'd begged and groveled for her to lick my ass, something I'd never imagined wanting. And when she had fucked my ass with her thumb, I'd cum wanting her to fuck me harder, wishing she would tear me in half.

As I walked into the lobby I thought about the looks I'd gotten on the subway and walking through the rush hour crowds on 8th Avenue. I felt increasingly self conscious. I wasn't cold, but I wrapped the little trench around me as I took my place on the crowded elevator. I found myself picturing the shape of my day. I worried the guys would tease me mercilessly, about what Kip would say, that Kathy might see me dressed this way.

But only Keith was waiting when I got in and he took no notice of my get-up. All he did was hold up the NERD DIVAS sign I'd hung on the door Friday night and shook his head. He looked entirely unamused.

"Not OK Sarah."

My stomach lurched, my sexy disguise forgotten.

"It was just a joke-"

"Not funny."

"I'm sorry, I thought, you know it was just the weekend... and I was mad."

"Unprofessional. Makes us all look bad. Don't do it again."

"Understood. I won't."

Then he pointed to the collection of action figures on Ben's desk that I'd arrange in every sexual position I could think of.

"That's actually pretty funny, but also unprofessional."

"Sorry."

I did my best to put Ben's toys back how I'd found them and, gingerly taking my seat, buried my nose in my computer, looking at what Keith had outlined for us, post Afghanistan. Compared to the week before, and its nightmare deadline, our coming week looked to be pretty breezy. Keith had blocked out time for a few evergreen projects, one for Sports and one for Style-

I looked up in confusion, and he was looking back at me; already knew what I'd seen. He'd been waiting for me to see it.

"We're making amends," he explained.

If I hadn't already started the morning on my back foot - twice - I might have made a stink, but I was in no position to complain. Ben showed up a few minutes later and accurately read the room, so all my outfit got from him was a raised eyebrow. Once Ben had settled in Keith did a quick post-game on Afghanistan and outlined the goals for the week. I'm to run point on the Style piece, which was super unfair, because Keith and Ben know fuck-all about sports. I work hard to disappear into my work... composing an email to Jen and Kathy.

I wasn't surprised when I heard back from them almost instantly. I'd overheard them in the ladies room rehearsing their situation. They were in full panic mode and desperate for help. Keith sent me to go meet with them, to figure out what they needed, but he told me not to make any promises. That I had to discuss things with him before we agreed to do the project with them.

"Wow!" Kathy exclaimed as soon as I walked into their bullpen. "I swear you are a different girl every time I see you!"

"Hi Kathy, nice to see you too," I said dryly, but I could feel my color rising. When Claire had dressed me this morning all I'd worried about were the guys, but it was the Kathys-of-the-world I should have worried about more. Having her see me this way was, as it turned out, worse than any of my worst case scenarios, and here I was. I needed to just plow through.

"Jen said you could show me what you're trying to do?"

Kathy's sour expression went two shades more sour at my dig, but I kept my expression one of bland expectation, until she pulled an extra chair over to her computer and waved me to it. It was one of the hard plastic chairs, like the ones in the cafeteria. I hesitated long enough and sat down slow enough that Kathy gave me a curious look, but it passed almost instantly and she showed me what they'd done.

To be fair what they wanted to do wasn't as dumb as I'd first thought - or it didn't have to be.

"Is this set in stone, or are you flexible?" I asked when she was done walking me through the work they'd done so far.

"I mean, we're not married to any particular detail," she admitted, "but we've put a lot of work into this and we're out of time."

"I get that," I reassured her, "but hear me out?"

I spent a few minutes sketching out my ideas in a notebook and talking through them while Kathy listened, surprisingly attentive. When I was done, she took the notebook and studied it.

"Can this be done by Thursday?" she asked.

"That's a Keith question," I told her, obediently passing the buck.

She made another sour look and clucked, but kept studying the pages. The funny thing, I realized, is Kathy wasn't actually unattractive. Her face would be pretty if it weren't for her expression I decided. She was heavy set, but carried her weight in her boobs and ass. She had a nice waist and pretty legs - she was the proverbial brick shithouse. She had beautifully clear skin - she wasn't actually that much older than me. I realized with a pang that she was probably Claire's age, maybe a little younger. But unlike Claire, who was so light and youthful, Kathy carried herself like she was already old.

"Do you have a few more minutes?" she asked finally. "I want you to show this to Jen."

It was getting dangerously close to lunch time and I needed to catch Kip, but I knew this came first. I was making amends.

"Yeah, of course. Let's see what she thinks."

"And Jen liked this scheme?" Keith asked.

"Over the moon."

"Can you give me a full work up this afternoon?"

"No problem."

"OK. I'm going to have you do this, but I want Jen to sign off on your plan first - not this sketch, a real plan. I will let her know we'll get back to them by four with a finalized plan and that there's no way it's ready by Thursday. The timeline is just too compressed."

I wasn't sure I agreed, but today wasn't the day to cross Keith, so I nodded and headed to my desk.

"Start after lunch," Keith told me. "Kip came by while you were at Style, he wanted to meet you in the cafeteria to discuss the Sports piece."

Busted.

I turned, expecting Keith to look cross, but his expression was mild, possibly even indulgent?

"Your scheme for Jen is really strong, I was afraid we were going to end up gilding a turd," he admitted. "I'm betting you and Kip can come up with something even better."

Kip was in his favorite corner, at a table alone, facing the windows. He and I tried to make our lunch dates anywhere but the cafeteria, simply for novelty's sake, but I'd argued we were meeting for work, and that I had very little time to fuck with today.

"Honey I'm home!" I called as I placed my tray in the spot next to his.

"Well I'd heard the rumors, but I didn't believe it!"

"Rumors?"

"That you had shown up for work dressed as Jessica Rabbit?"

"Oh fuck you very much!"

"No seriously, what's the occasion? The dude bros are all a-flutter. Do you have a date, or is this still for your brother?"

He held up his fingers and made scare-quote around the word brother, which I knew made me blush with guilt, but I ignored the jab, too horrified by the image of the guys mocking me behind my back

"Dude bros?" I asked. "Did Ben say something?"

"Oh please. Your nerds probably haven't even noticed. I meant the boi polloi out in the bullpen, where the real work is done."

"Where total bullshit gets done," I scoffed, rolling my eyes and letting my ass finally drop into my seat, flinching as my tender rear made contact.

"You ok?" Kip was looking at me with raised eyebrows.

"No?" I responded tartly. "I don't like the idea of being fodder for gossip in the newsroom."

And I didn't. I was truly relieved it wasn't Keith and Ben, and probably shouldn't have been surprised, but I was angry at myself. In my first year at the Times I'd managed to keep a low profile socially - or hoped I had.

"Sure sure, but seriously - your brother's gone, so what's the deal? Hot date tonight with someone who badly needs a spanking?"

I gave him a disapproving look, or tried to, but Kip held my gaze, his expression bland and neutral.

'It's like he fucking knows,' I thought, dismissing the idea that he might actually be a mind reader, and then, as the silence stretched I second guessed myself, and wondered again if he might in fact know what I was thinking.

Whatever the case, I wasn't going to get away without an explanation. It occurred to me that I could tell him I lost a bet... oh, fuck it.

"Claire," I said flatly.

Kip's expression didn't change, but his eyes had. I could tell I'd caught him off guard. He almost looked vulnerable.

"The curator. I'm sleeping with Claire," I told him. "Having sex with her," I said, when I could still see the words weren't penetrating. "Lots and lots of super hot lesbian sex, Kip."

"You're joking?" he asks, but the way he asks makes it clear he knows I'm not, he just couldn't get his mind around the truth yet.

"It's been going on for about a month," I explained. "I went to her place naked last night - long story. These are her things. I think she thought it was funny to dress me this way for work."

"Naked?!"

"Like I said, loooong story, but yes, there were spankings."

After Kip stopped sputtering and lifted his jaw off the table I told him I had to get back to work and didn't have time to fill him in, but promised I would once I had time; over drinks. I watched him struggle with his desire to be snarky and his desperate need to know more. But he knew I actually was pressed for time.

I will forever treasure the look on Kip's face in that moment, I will take it to my grave. He finally gained control of his warring selves and, squeezing his lips tight, gave me a little nod to make my pitch.

Opening my laptop I told him my idea for the World Cup.

"Game Times will be videos of people watching the game, all around the world, compiled in real-time and synched with the live audio of the game."

I showed him the mock up I'd done. Each image bleeding into the next, the rectangle of the green televised field slowly rotating as the transition from a family watching the games on tv in a Brazilian favela morphed to a young congregation in a South Carolina church basement to a crowded English pub to a packed Lower East Side dive bar.

I had to give Kip credit, he successfully compartmentalized the news of Claire and I, dropped into professional mode, and listened with real interest as he carefully studied the images.

"...you get the idea. The trick isn't to have world class photojournalists, it's just to have as many videos as possible, as quickly as possible, and the means to stitch them together on the fly."

"Holy shit, Nerd - that's actually really cool," Kip said as I finished my salad. "But The Cup is a long way off. Why are you working on this now?"

"Because I want it projected live on a screen in Times Square."

"Oh fuck, I'm IN!"

"Good, don't say anything to Ed yet," I said, mentioning Kip's boss. "Now that I've got you on board I'm going to pitch it to Keith. Hopefully he likes it as much as you do - oh, and Kip?"

"Yes?"

"If you say a word to anyone about me and Claire, if you even allude to it or make an arch joke, I will kill you and never speak to you again."

"Understood."

Keith, it turns out, loved the idea and immediately had me pitch it to Ed, who loved it too. Even still, I got my proposal for Style done well before three and showed it to Keith, who looked it over carefully and asked questions but didn't make any changes.

"Send it!" he told me.

I fired it off to Jen and Kathy almost an hour early. Jen's reply came back almost instantly.

"This looks amazing, let's get started!"

Claire and I had been texting all day, mostly just random stuff, but she was excited to hear about my two new pieces. We also went back and forth about when and where to meet that night, finally setting a date to meet at the little wine bar around the corner from her house I'd never been to.

but I need to go home. I have nothing to wear

And it was true, but truer still I didn't want to go home, I wanted to rush straight to Claire.