RoseAnn Discovers Dominance Pt. 31

Rachel welcomed me in. She was dressed quite differently tonight--black leather shorts and vest, worn over a white lace blouse without a brassiere. The vest flapped open as she moved, clearly displaying the shadow of a nipple every now and then. She could have been one of the women in Craig's porn collection. It was much easier to imagine her whipping a naked and bound Harley dressed like this. On the other hand, I was curious about such a revealing outfit when only women were going to be present. Her revelations on Saturday had already convinced me that she was open to just about anything sexual.

She gave me a brief hug, and her breath confirmed my first impression that she'd been preparing for the meeting beforehand with a little alcohol--perhaps more than a little.

"Looks like you're the first one here," she said. "It'll give me a chance to show you around." She ushered me to a large living room, where a dozen chairs were arranged in a circle. A circular coffee table in the middle held trays of fruit and vegetables and bottles of wine, as well as carafes, hopefully containing something other than alcohol.

The room featured an enormous picture window. We were on the twentieth floor, so the window no doubt had a sweeping view of the lake. But at eight pm in January, it had been dark for hours. A few pinpoints of light shone over the water, partly obscured by the brilliant lights of Lakeshore Drive in the foreground.

"We picked up this condominium a year ago," she said, leading me through halls decorated with paintings and wall hangings from exotic countries. "We wanted to get away from rents forever going up and up, and no control over what neighbors might move in. At least, we don't have to repair anything ourselves, or rake leaves, or drive into the city. I don't see anything attractive or romantic in suburban life."

I couldn't fail to be impressed. Polished marble and antiqued brass were everywhere. The fixtures were new and solid, none of the corroded, construction-grade trash that we had to put up with in Craig's apartment and, for that matter, in my folks' home in Bitumen.

"I'm envious," I said, since she expected me to say something. "When I'm a professional engineer someday, maybe I'll be able to afford a place like this."

"If you stay hooked up with Craig, he'll be tenured and an associate professor in a couple of years, and you'll be an engineer and in demand. The two of you together will easily make enough to live wherever you want."

I blushed a little at the mention of Craig, as well as at the piercing gaze she turned on me at that moment. Does she still plan to include Craig in her life? "Who knows what will become of us?" I said, "But I know I like city life. I've been in Chicago a year, and I'm already in love with it."

Rachel said, "That reminds me--I've got your union card here." She gave me a plain white card with fine printing on it, and my name on the front. "Now you're a paid-up member of the actors' union."

I thanked her and tucked the card into my wallet. I probably wouldn't use it for a few months, but I would have liked to track down Suzie and shove the card in her face.

The doorbell rang, and I waited until Rachel ushered another woman into the room. Her name was Elise, a short brunette with fierce eyes. She dressed somewhat like Rachel, in a very short skirt with dark nylons and a flimsy blouse with a plunging neckline. If she'd had a luxurious bust like Rachel, her breasts would certainly have fallen out.

Moments later, two other women appeared. Just a few days after the photo shoot, I immediately recognized Susan's red hair and perfect face. She raised an eyebrow in recognition. Her companion, Mary, was unremarkable in appearance. Both women were dressed plainly, in jeans and prim blouses.

When we were settled in the circle of chairs, Rachel gestured at me. "We have a new member tonight, RoseAnn Perez." She turned to me to explain. "What Elise and I have been doing is gathering together women who are in female-dominant relationships. A lot of us started off uncertain of ourselves, and now we want to provide support for other women in the same circumstances. We meet informally to exchange ideas and most of all, to support one another. Four of us are in stable relationships with men who accept us for what we are. Susan has just come out of a relationship where her husband refused to accept her leadership."

Susan spoke up. "He was into macho things--guns, motorbikes, hunting, tattoos, football, all those guy things. I was a kind of household utility where he could stick his thing when he couldn't get relief anywhere else."

"That sounds familiar," I said, and Elise nodded too.

Rachel looked at me. "But you got out of a bad situation and found a man that suited you?"

"It's more like he found me," I said. "I didn't know what I was until he came along and...well..."

"...let out the tigress?" suggested Elise, and a ripple of laughter went around the circle.

I giggled. "I guess I couldn't have put it any better than that. I thought he was just strange at first. But I got over it."

Elise laughed aloud, an irritating bray. "Once you've had a man on his knees in front of you, begging to suck your cunt, you can't ever go back to business as usual."

Rachel looked at Susan. "Is that what you want?"

She nodded. "Something like that. I really don't know what I want. But whatever it is, I want to decide for myself."

Mary, who hadn't said anything yet, leaned forward. "But make sure that it's what you want. Most men who say they want to be submissive will suddenly pull out a laundry list of all the things they want you to do to them. They don't want a relationship, they want a fantasy fulfilled."

Elise nodded. "Men who say they want to be submissive are all over the place. Men who will really let you take the lead are hard to find. Very hard."

I took a long look at Susan before I spoke up. She was very slender, very pretty, perhaps thirty years old at most. "I might have just what you need. A handsome young man, twenty, one of my classmates. He's very respectful of women. I actually slept in his bed one night when I couldn't make it home from a party. I was drunk out of my mind. He looked after me and helped me over my hangover. He's said a few times he'd like to be my boyfriend, but he knows I'm already taken and he accepts that."

"A man who won't take advantage of a passed-out woman," said Rachel. "Are you sure he's not queer? Or maybe you jut imagined it? You were drunk, after all."

"As sure as I can be, but I think he'd be worth a try." I turned to Susan. "Have you got a photograph?"

"If he's desperate as you say, he won't need a photo," said Elise.

Susan ignored her and fumbled in her purse until she found a small professional photo of herself. "As a professional model, I have to carry head shots. At least, from this he can see what he's getting. I mean, what he's going to worship."

We laughed at that, but I liked her attitude. No doubt, she was beautiful, and her assertiveness showed through. She'd have no trouble taking control of a submissively-inclined man.

We talked on for an hour more. Elise, it seemed, was the real sparkplug in this circle. She thought of herself as a counselor for couples who wanted to set up a female-dominated household. She was easy to listen to, speaking in a husky, seductive voice. It was impossible not to look at those burning eyes. They were the eyes of a charismatic prophet or a fearless warrior.

"Men are simple creatures," she said. "It's an old joke that they think with their dicks, but because it's a joke doesn't mean it's not true. The male drive for sex is so strong and relentless that it dominates everything else a man does. Even if a man doesn't consciously want sex with a woman, he'll still go through the motions--flirting, bragging, smutty jokes, and so on. A smart woman who informs herself can use this drive to her advantage. She can live as an independent creature and not simply as a domestic servant or a decoration on her man's arm.

"A lot of women are surprised to hear this, but men find a confident and independent woman irresistible. Some men relish the challenge of pursuit and conquest, and other men are just content to worship from afar." Her voice dropped nearly to a whisper, so that we leaned toward her as if about to learn the Secret of the Universe. "If you remember nothing else from tonight, remember this...

"Men get the most fulfillment from the chase, not from the capture."

Puzzled, I made an involuntary, "Eh?" and almost shrank back as her hot eyes swiveled in my direction.

"If you're in a serious relationship now, go back to the time before you married or moved in together, and recall how he behaved, how he brought you flowers and took you to dinner and gave you massages and compliments, and how he was willing to spend hours making love to you.

"And then you committed yourself to him, and all this came to an end. The 'I love you' turned into 'Hey, bitch, get me a beer.'"

She was describing my life at age eighteen, when I married Mike and lived through the overnight change in his attitude.

I was anxious to hear more of what she had to say, but the harsh ring of the telephone interrupted.

Rachel picked up the receiver, listened a moment, and said, "RoseAnn, it's for you."

I stood up, puzzled. Only Craig knew I was here, and he wouldn't call without good cause.

"Hello?"

"RoseAnn? I'm sorry to interrupt, but your friend Candy called me a minute ago. There's been a death. Someone you knew."

My stomach clenched tight. Mom? Dad? "Did she say who?"

"It was a man. Did you know a Donald someone?"

"Donald Whitten?"

"That was it. That's all I know. Did you know him well?"