Sister Desiree Ch. 05 - Sally

"These Gaea sluts are trying to undermine the American family!" Clyde Garland exclaimed.

Sally Garland looked over. As usual, Clyde's eyes were glued to the TV. He always got worked up whenever the Gaeans were in the news. This time their spokesperson wore only a black lace bra on her torso. Clyde would never let her go out dressed like that. "Now, honey, lets watch the language in front of the kids."

"That's what she is! A slut! I'm sure they hear worse at school. They're almost adults, anyway."

Janie would go off to college next year, and Clyde Junior was just two years younger. "Still."

"You're right, Sally." Clyde said. "It's a sign of the times that the s-word is all over the place."

Clyde watched more news than he used to, and always the same station, the one that was ever so scandalized by the way the Church of Gaea was spreading. "Dinner's almost ready. What are they up to this time?" Sally asked. She was curious, and she didn't have as much time to watch news as Clyde did, although she hated to ask for fear of provoking a rant.

"No-fault divorce, on demand! Can you imagine? If they push this through, marriage won't be sacred anymore! I could just leave you for some young floozy!"

Not sure the young floozies want you, Clyde, thought Sally. "What's their reasoning?" she asked.

"They claim that the legal construct of marriage--don't know who fed that bimbo words like that--constitutes a form of involuntary servitude. Something about consent only being valid if its ongoing, blah blah blah, otherwise it's just people owning each other."

"I don't own you, Clyde."

"Darn straight!"

She sighed. He ignored her unless he wanted to rant about something he saw on television, and she was tired of it.

***

The next morning as Sally got dressed for work, she unbuttoned a few buttons on her blouse, showing just a hint of cleavage. She wasn't sure why she did it, but people wore less on TV lately, and more and more women were dressing more provocatively at work. Sally knew her large breasts were one of her best physical features, and today she didn't feel like being Mrs. Frumpy.

"You're not going out dressed like that," Clyde said. "That blouse is way too tight."

"I'm wearing a blazer over it before I step out the door," Sally said.

"Good. Keep it on. And button up!"

She buttoned the buttons. "Why does it matter to you?"

"Because you're my wife, Sally. I don't want other people gawking at what's mine."

"Ah," she said.

As soon as she was out the door, she formed the words "farm you," with her mouth, and unbuttoned the buttons again. By the time she got to work, she unbuttoned one more, and she hung her blazer up on the hook outside her office.

She got a few looks that day at work, and she enjoyed that. It reminded her she was still an attractive woman, after two kids and a few years past forty. Some of the other women told her that the "new look" looked good on her.

The way Clyde had said "my wife" kept grating on her. She had always been proud to be "his wife" and had usually been proud to say, "my husband." But it wasn't pride she heard in his voice this time. It was possessiveness. And when he said "see what's mine"--did he think her body was his? Were her breasts his breasts? Maybe her back soreness was his fucking back soreness, too. He wouldn't much like carrying around all that extra weight up front all day long.

She snorted. If he had tits he'd probably spend the whole day playing with them.

"Going to happy hour?" Dinah asked her.

"Um... yeah, what the heck," Sally said. She almost never said yes.

Dinah laughed. "Heck? Anyway, glad you're joining us."

Sally sent a text to say not to wait dinner on her, that she had a really important work thing that was going to make her late. If Clyde knew where she was going, he'd be annoyed. But not half annoyed as he'd be if he knew she was showing off her cleavage--his cleavage?--at a bar, of all places.

She tossed the blazer into the back seat of her car before walking to the bar with her co-workers. She was reclaiming her body and reclaiming herself.

She ordered a drink, a Mai Tai. Drinking meant she'd have to stay for a while. Couldn't get into a car until the alcohol wore off! Her co-workers were soon laughing and swapping stories, unwinding after a long day preparing a demo for their client. Clyde was right about the world changing. There were at least three women in the bar without shirts on, and Dinah had stripped down to just a bra the moment she'd left the office. There were a couple of guys shirtless, too, and they were both built. Sally tried to decide if it was unfaithful to look, and decided that if she didn't stare, it was okay.

"What made you decide to join us, Sally? Things opening up with your husband?" asked John.

She nearly choked on her drink. "Opening up? Uh, no. My husband's not the reason I don't come to happy hour usually," she lied. "It's my kids. And I'm not much of a drinker."

"You're different today," insisted John. "What's up?"

"What you're noticing," said Dinah, "is that she has a fantastic rack."

John's gaze lowered. He didn't quite stare, but he took a good look. Sally decided that if her looking wasn't cheating, her being looked at wasn't, either. But asking John if he agreed with Dinah's assessment would be taking things too far.

"Well, I'm just glad she joined us," said John.

"Hush a second, I want to hear this part," said Dinah, pointing to a television. It was showing the news, although not the station Clyde always watched. Sally recognized the woman being interviewed from the night before. She was wearing a tight red vinyl top unzipped to her navel. It was so tight she didn't need a bra for support, although it might have stopped her nipples from making such obvious points. The reporter with her was a redhead wearing a bustier that displayed a fair amount of cleavage as well, pushed from the bottom rather than pushed from the sides.

"The news has just broken that the Supreme Court has ruled that laws against adultery are a violation of the Thirteenth Amendment, which forbids involuntary servitude, and that Ohio's restrictions on divorce constitute an unconstitutional burden on people seeking, as the ruling declares, 'freedom from such servitude.' I'm here with Sister Desiree of the Church of Gaea for a reaction. Sister Desiree? This is a big win for you, right?"

"Oh yes, Alexandra. Not for me personally, but for men and women everywhere who have felt they can't leave unhealthy relationships because of the burdens the state created for doing so."

"Critics say that this will weaken marriage. But I gather you have a different take?"

"Everyone in a marriage should know that their partner or partners want to be there. The ruling doesn't just make it easier to get a divorce. We're going to see stronger marriages, based on genuine affection and trust rather than legal requirements. It stops people from holding sexual activity over their partners' heads, and returns the basic right of sexual freedom to married people. We're all endowed by our creator with the right to pursue happiness, and happy spouses are better spouses."

"That's what an open relationship is all about, isn't it?"

"Yes, but before this ruling, even if someone agreed to an open relationship, they often denied it or claimed their partner pressured them into it at child custody hearings. It was nasty, and we saw it time and time again."

"Thank you for your time, Sister Desiree."

"Anytime."

"Woohoo!" said Dinah. "Free -- ee -- dom!" She yelled it loud, and there were laughs and claps from around the bar.

"Whatcha gonna do with all that freedom?" asked John.

"Um, something that doesn't involve a co-worker," said Dinah. "Sorry John."

"No worries. I wasn't making a pass. Thought you and hubby were already separated, anyway."

"Sure. And he's banging the same chick he was probably banging before that. Which I'd never use against him, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't use what I do against me, and legally, separated or no, he could, but not anymore." Dinah shrugged. "Excuse me, I'm going to go schmooze." She got up and walked toward one of the shirtless men Sally had been admiring earlier.

"Dinah is on the prowl," John said. "What do you make of all this, Sally?"

"Interesting." Sally watched Dinah with envy. How long had it been since she and Clyde had actually had sex? A couple of months, at least. And it had been a couple of months before that. He hadn't discovered her new hiding place for her vibrator, but finding time and privacy to use it wasn't easy--the kids had to be involved in something, and she had to hope the TV didn't rile Clyde up so that he'd come looking for her to rant at.

John was kinda cute, actually. She wondered--no, she shouldn't be thinking such thoughts. She was a married woman.

"What's mine," Clyde had said. "Don't show what's mine." His wife, his woman, his cleavage, his tits. Were they his thoughts, too? Were her eyes his eyes, so she shouldn't look? If she looked at John with "his" eyes, did that make him gay? She suppressed a giggle. She didn't think that way about Clyde, as if she owned him. She knew he watched porn. She wondered if he had the same thoughts when he watched it, if he jerked himself off, watching the screen, wishing the women were his, his, his? How would she feel if he did--against all odds--find some young floozy to stick his cock into rather than his hand?

As long as it's not in front of the children, and as long as I can do the same, Sally decided.

"You look a mile away," John said.

"Yeah, sorry, I guess I am. I always feel awkward at these things. I should go."

"You're more than welcome to stay," John said.

"Nah." She left a twenty on the counter to cover her check and the tip with room to spare. It was better than having a bar tab appear on the credit card bill. She walked out into the fresh air--she hadn't realized how sweaty the bar had been.

She looked down. Her nipples made an impression on her blouse, even through her bra. She thought about walking to the car, but she still had a little too much alcohol in her system to drive, so she walked the other direction instead. If that meant she couldn't get her blazer to cover up, well, maybe someone would enjoy the view. She liked thinking she was still worth looking at.

The new court ruling had nothing to do with her, so why did it have her flustered?

A woman walked down the street toward her, wearing the same top as the woman on TV had. Maybe vinyl was in. She had on a short vinyl skirt, too, and thigh-high boots, with several inches of thigh showing between boots and skirt. The curly brown-black hair and red lipstick confirmed it was the same woman.

"Excuse me," Sally said. She wasn't sure what she had to say, but she felt there was something. No doubt a television personality would be too busy to talk to her, anyway.

But Sister Desiree stopped, smiled, and took a good long look at Sally's cleavage before looking back up. "Hi there," she said. "Where have you been all my life?"

Sally blinked. Desiree was a good fifteen years younger than her. Even though it felt like a pick-up line, Sally's analytical mind took it literally. "Raising kids. Being a man's wife."

"A good man, I hope?" said Desiree.

"Well..." said Sally. She shouldn't want to say anything bad about Clyde, but she did. She wanted to complain about him watching TV all the time, ignoring her, taking her for granted and treating her like she was property. Was her mouth, his mouth? Her words, his words? Did it all belong to him?

"Not so much, huh?"

"He just watches TV all the time he's home. The news, mostly. Porn, if he thinks no one is home."

"Same story I hear all the time," said Desiree. "We're all so fucked up and repressed. We all have desires, but society has conditioned us to fear expressing them honestly. Better to stare at a screen than be vulnerable and tell another human being what we want."

"You hear a lot of women say that?" Sally asked.

"Women. Men. Non-binary people. Human beings. Why did you approach me?" asked Desiree.

Oh, right, it was me who started the conversation, wasn't it? "Uh..."

"Usually," said Desiree, "People either want to tell me what a slut I am, or they want to fuck me. You aren't doing the former. So. Wanna fuck?"

"Really?" asked Sally.

"Really."

Sally never thought she was attracted to women. But she felt she had to make a statement to herself. "Can we start with a kiss?"

"Of course."

So they kissed right there in the middle of the street, not because she wanted to feel her lips, or because she was curious how Desiree's chest would feel pressing into hers. She did it because Clyde would claim to disapprove, even though he would have jerked off to the same action between two strangers on a screen. She kissed Desiree because she'd been told to believe that two women shouldn't kiss like that, and it was better to rebel late than never.

Desiree was a good kisser.

"Well then," said Desiree, grinning.

"Filthy lezzie slut. Pervert."

"Excuse me?"

"No, no, not you. I'm thinking of what my husband would say."

Desiree laughed. "Oh! That's different. He'd be wrong, then. I'm thoroughly pansexual. Dead on about the slut and the pervert part, though."

"I meant about me," Sally said.

"He'd be even more wrong. Don't take this wrong, because that was a good kiss, but I've kissed girls who are into girls, and I've kissed straight girls who were into putting on a show, and that was a straight girl kiss."

"Sorry," said Sally.

"Don't be. Pervert, remember? There's something hot about being kissed by a straight girl." She grinned. "And you thought so too, or you wouldn't have kissed me. So you're a bit of a perv yourself. So, perv yes, lezzie no, and the open question is the slut part."

"That'd be a no, too," Sally said. "I've been faithful for the whole nineteen years we've been married."

"Your no sounded wistful. May I kiss you again?" asked Desiree.

"Yes," whispered Sally.

"People will stare," said Desiree, just before their lips joined.

The more Sally thought about people staring, the more exciting it was. She let Desiree slip her tongue inside and returned the favor. When Desiree's hands slowly slid from her waist towards her breasts, she didn't stop them.

"Mmm," Desiree whispered in her ear. "Nothing like a good public show, is there?"

"As long as my husband doesn't find out," Sally said, and then regretted it. Wasn't doing something your partner didn't know about the essence of cheating? Every experience she had was supposed to be available to him. Her experiences belonged to him.

No, they don't. He didn't deserve that. And he didn't give it back in return, with his furtive pornography. She knew why he hid it. He hid it because it would be harder to justify having sex only six times a year. She didn't mind him watching, or even his desire for a private experience, because she never thought he belonged to her. She just wanted more sex than she was getting. She supplied the physical part with the vibrator when she could, but the intimacy was missing.

Until she'd kissed Desiree.

"What's your name?" asked Desiree.

"Sally Garland," Sally said.

"Sister Desiree."

"I know."

Desiree smiled. "I thought it was polite to introduce myself anyway. Although kissing first, then names, is my kind of fun. Don't worry. I won't tell your husband. Is that really what you want?"

"You have a way of making me question myself."

Desiree grinned. "My job is helping people find themselves."

Sally nodded, thinking about the question. She feared his reaction, not because she thought he'd hit her, but because of the yelling and the upset and the hurt face he'd put on. But she hated secrets. So you look at porn. Big fucking deal. You like threesomes? We could have a threesome, just quit talking about how perverted and awful everyone else is while you like watching them. She wanted to rub what she'd just done in his face and tell him she knew all about his browsing history and bring it all out in the open. She'd never considered that kind of frankness, but now that she knew she could just walk, or have lovers with no legal consequences, dishonesty seemed ridiculous.

Desiree smiled at her. "Did you decide?"

"Which? About my husband knowing?"

"Sure. Or the earlier question, about whether you're willing to admit you love everyone watching you being sexual. That you are an exhibitionist slut, whether you want to go further or not."

Sally stared at Desiree and then looked down at her cleavage. She didn't feel lust, but she saw a sort of freedom. She remembered how Clyde had reacted to Desiree the night before, and she made up her mind. "Could you do me a favor?" she asked.

"Probably. If it's sexual." Desiree grinned.

"Sorta," she said. "Is there any way I can get in contact with you?"

"Sure." Desiree reached into a small pouch on her belt and handed her a card. It listed the address of a Church on 15^th street, and a phone number, with a backdrop of a nude Desiree reclining on a bed. "The phone number's wrong," Desiree said, scrawling a new number on the back. "I had to change it. This number should work until someone leaks it out. Don't do that."

"Thanks." Sally put the card in her purse and unbuttoned the remaining buttons on her blouse. She took it off and handed it to Desiree. "Keep this for me?"

"Sure." Desiree gave her a quizzical look.

"Now I don't have a choice. And I'm not showing anything the kids don't see on the news. When I get home, I'll have to explain why I don't have my blouse."

"And you get to take the metro topless," said Desiree.

Now why did that idea turn her on? "I have a car, actually."

"Ah. I got rid of mine. Means I walk around more, and I like being seen."

"I have a convertible," said Sally. That had been Clyde's idea. He imagined himself an open road and the wind kind of guy, but they'd switched cars as soon as they bought a new one, so now she had it.

"Nice. Go topless in both regards, and you'll get admiring looks all the way home."

It was a bit cold out for that, but Sally nodded. In for a penny, in for a pound.

"Walk you to your car?" asked Desiree.

"Sure," said Sally.

"If you don't mind, I'll put my arm around you to get you some extra stares."

Sally thought about denying she wanted that, but knew she'd be lying. She was almost sorry when they got to the car. She got in and rolled the top down.

"Want me to take that, too?" Desiree pointed to the blazer. "It might be an occasion to sin."

She'd heard that phrase growing up, but she'd never heard it used to describe being tempted to cover up. She nodded. "Yes, please."

Desiree tossed blouse and blazer over her shoulder, gave Sally a quick kiss, and then waved. As Sally got the engine going and pulled into traffic, she saw John coming up the street, no doubt heading back to his own car. Did he see her? Did he recognize the blazer and blouse Desiree was carrying and wonder?

She hoped so. The world was changing, just as Clyde said. Her world was changing. "My world," she said out loud. "Mine. But if the man I once loved is still in there, I'm more than happy to share it with him, and we can make it ours."