Taking In Strays

Bringing up a search engine, I typed in "lesbian porn" and found a multitude of options to choose from. It wasn't the first time I'd viewed porn. I'd watched it with a couple of girlfriends during my senior year in high school. The girl's father had quite the collection of porn DVD's from which we could choose. Of course, the selection that night had been straight porn, so tonight's viewing would be an entirely different world for me.

Searching through the categories, I found one labeled "Older/Younger" that seemed to fit perfectly the fantasies I was having. Scrolling through the plethora of choices, I settled on an interracial scene. The black woman in the six-minute clip I watched was light-skinned like Jax, though not quite as pretty. I have no real recollection of what the white actress looked like other than the fact she was older and dark-headed. My focus was entirely on the caramel-colored beauty on the screen as she was seduced by the other actress. As her resistance was worn down and she gave in to the wondrous world of sapphic desire, my hand slipped beneath the waistband of my panties.

Though I'd often fantasized about what it would be like, particularly after my nights out with Grace and her friends. This was the first time I'd ever witnessed two women having sex. As I stroked my clitoris in slow and meandering circles while watching the action on the screen. I imagined I was the white actress as she began to lick between the supple-looking thighs of her chocolate treat.

My climax slowly built up inside me. It was like the pressure inside a boiler with the release valve closed off. I knew when it finally hit, it was going to be the biggest ever.

The last thing I remember thinking of as I watched the young black woman on the laptop screen begin to cum, was of Jax's moan.

I wasn't wrong about the magnitude of my orgasm. Where I sold it short was in the overall effect it had on me.

It was life-changing.

Never in my sexual experiences with a man had a climax remotely come close to the staggering ferocity of this orgasm. The pleasure those infrequent climaxes produced were the level of a firecracker.

This was the bomb dropped on Hiroshima.

I'd once read an article that talked about how everyone falls somewhere on the spectrum of sexuality. People could range anywhere from exclusively heterosexual to exclusively homosexual In between was a varying range that included straight with a mild curiosity in the same sex, bisexual with a preference to the opposite sex, bisexual with no preference, bisexual but prefer the same sex, etc...

I now knew with certainty that I was likely bisexual with a robust preference towards women. How it hadn't occurred to me at an earlier point in life was beyond my reasoning. Maybe then I hadn't been ready to accept the things I now felt.

Of course, this presented a spectacularly tricky problem for me. I was a married woman, and I took those vows seriously. I'd made a commitment to Darren, and although there was little to no passion in our relationship. I did care a great deal for the man.

A smart woman would have found a reason to end Jax's stay, recognizing the danger she presented. At the very least, I should have taken measures to insulate myself from contact with her.

I knew I could do neither. I couldn't evict Jax any more than I could disrespect the commitment I'd made to Darren.

I couldn't avoid her because...well, let's face it, I was hopelessly drawn to her.

It was a conundrum.

At two in the morning, I was standing in the kitchen, still unable to sleep. The room around me was dark as I stood in front of the sink, staring out the window in the direction of the stairway leading to Jax's room. Bringing a glass of water to my lips, I paused when I detected movement at the base of the stairs. Anya appeared holding Jax's wrist as she seemingly dragged the angelic young creature up the steps.

From my hidden vantage point, I watched as the pair reached the top of the steps where Anya turned to Jax and began wagging her finger in the young beauty's face like she was berating a disrespectful child. The offending digit then pointed in my direction. Whatever Jax was being chastized for, it had something to do with me.

My thoughts went to the hug.

"Sorry about that, Jax," I thought to myself. Of course, I was sorry for the trouble it caused her, and not the hug itself. I would cherish the memory of that hug ad infinitum.

I watched as Anya stepped back enough to allow Jax up onto the landing. Jax reached into her purse and, after a brief search, pulled out her keys and unlocked the door.

Anya stared back my way as if her spiteful stare could penetrate the walls of my home. I remembered Jax's assertion about how controlling and demanding the bitch was as a lover. Before I was consciously even aware of what I was doing, my fingers found and flipped the switch to the light above the stove. The fluorescent bulb flickered briefly before the electric charge ionized the mercury vapor inside the glass tube, illuminating the area right around the sink.

The bulbs light turned the window I'd been looking out of into a mirror. No longer could I see the contemptuous bitch, but she now knew that I was here, and I had seen. My eyes never wavered from the spot I knew she had been standing in. The glare of the light from Jax's open door was the only thing still visible through the window. I stood there until I saw it go out before extinguishing the bulb over the sink.

The next day, I lay by the poo in a lounger while I read a book. It was almost noon, and there had been no movement from the suite above the garage. The Slavic bitch's car still rested next to Jax's in one of her two assigned parking places next to the garage.

It wasn't like I was stalking her, at least not technically. Heck, I live here too.

Just after noon, the door opened, and Anya stepped out onto the landing as she put her sunglasses on. She paused to cast a cold stare down my way. I guess it was meant to intimidate me, and I have to admit, as far as the evil eye went, it was pretty good.

I put on my sweetest smile and gave her the best Rose Bowl Queen wave I could muster. Anya's response could best be described as a snarl and one finger wave in return.

The woman was overflowing with charm.

I didn't see Jax the rest of the day nor that night. It was killing me not to know she was alright. I even begged off going to dinner with Darren and friends with claims of a bad headache. I could tell he wasn't pleased about it, but hey, his emergency business trips had often sidelined our plans in the past.

It was just after ten the next morning when I saw Jax exit the room over the garage. She didn't seem her usual buoyant self. The bounce in her step that usually carried her everywhere she went was missing. She almost gingerly made her way down the stairs, very un-Jax life. She never looked my way, which set off alarms. She always greeted me with a big smile and wave when she came down the stairs. At that point, the pool gate would swing open, and my young, caramel-colored goddess would spend a bit of time with me before leaving for her shift.

Not today.

I heard her car engine start and listened as it backed out of the driveway. I felt my heart going with her as she drove away, leaving me feeling empty.

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More than a week had gone by before I spoke to Jax again. During that time, Anya had made two more appearances. Each time the miserable cunt graced me with a smirk that proclaimed victory as she climbed that stairway. I knew that her little victory march was a premature celebration even if she didn't.

The third day after Jax had gone radio silent on me. I decided it was time to find out a bit more about Ms. Anya. What was it Sun Tzu said? Know your enemy? I decided to take the man's advice.

Sam Dayne Investigations was interestingly enough not run by a man named Sam. Samantha Dayne, however, was a hell of an investigator and had been for more than a decade. I'd become acquainted with her skills when I hired her at the encouragement of a friend. I needed background checks on a few charities I had been asked to donate a significant amount of money towards. I took my duties directing my family's charitable foundation seriously on the rare occasions I had to make a decision like this. Samantha was crucial in getting me detailed information on the charities in question. Information that kept the family foundation from giving to one charity that two years later was charged with federal crimes.

I met Samantha at a restaurant near her office. It was our habit for me to buy her lunch whenever she had a report to submit.

"There she is," Samantha said, standing as I approached the table. I took in the seven-month pregnant belly on the woman. It would be her fifth child since we'd met and sixth overall.

Rubbing at her stomach, I teasingly asked, "Have they figured out what causes this yet?"

Samantha waved her hand, "Yeah, but what fun would life be if I couldn't be pregnant every couple of years? Morning sickness, stretch marks, swollen feet, and a neverending stream of babies and toddlers. Who could possibly ask for more?"

"So, is that for me?" I said pointing to a folder resting on her side of the table

"Indeed it is," Samantha said, sliding the folder over my way. "You'll see for yourself that the target is forty-years-old with two children, a boy, and a girl, ages twelve and fourteen. She owns at least a minority share in six different restaurants and a majority share in three others. Her husband is an engineer currently employed over in Abu Dhabi. He's usually there nine months out of the year. Every three months, he rotates home to spend a month of family time. His wife usually meets him back in the home country, which is Bulgaria, by the way."

"Ex-husband, you mean," I said as I read the report.

"You'd think so considering what she told your friend, but no. They're still very much married. And then there's the part about her girlfriend."

Looking up and giving Sam my a confused look, I said, "I know all about Jax, you silly breeder. She's my tenant."

Samantha laughed at my slur. "Not her goofball, the other girlfriend. She has another girl that happens to waitress at another one of their locations on the southside. We got a few photos of the girl and interviewed a few coworkers that said it's been going on about a year and a half."

"That bitch," I said, "this is going to kill Jax."

If you look at page two, you'll see that this Anya is pretty heavy into kink. She apparently considers herself a domme and has taken both girls to a BDSM club called 1763 here in Atlanta."

I nodded my head as I read. "Yeah, Jax alluded to something like that going on between them. I got the feeling from what she said that it was something she'd been drawn into, and wasn't something she was all that crazy about." I explained.

"Yeah, well, coworkers of the second girl reported seeing welts and occasional bruises on her, so you might want to keep an eye on this Jax," Samantha warned me.

"Anything else?" I asked, fighting down the bile in my throat that rose at the thought of Anya hurting my little Nubian Goddess.

"Look at the last paragraph on the final page and the photos in the back of the file. You'll see a shot of a delivery truck from one of their suppliers. One of the things delivered was a small pallet of flour." Samantha pointed out.

"I've never eaten there, but that makes sense depending on their menu, I guess," I replied.

Samantha smiled and then pulled the final two photos from the back of the pile. Holding them up, she said, "We got these shots of Anya taking four bags of flour off the pallet and putting them in the trunk of her Mercedes. The employee that tipped us off about this said it's a regular occurrence. He says she's always there the night of this truck delivery and always takes four bags of flour."

"Maybe her hobbies are whipping her girlfriends and baking," I said facetiously as I neatly stacked up all the photos and placed them back in the file.

"I've got a friend at APD in their narcotics division who could probably do something with this. But before I tip him off, you might want to get your friend clear. I'm sure you don't want her getting caught up in this mess."

Taking in a deep breath and letting out a sigh, I said, "Give me a few days to confront Jax with all this stuff. Once she's gotten clear of the relationship, I'll let you know so you can tip your cop friend."

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It was a Wednesday evening, eleven days after the last time Jax and I had spoken. I would catch glimpses of her every day, sometimes twice a day, but she worked hard to avoid talking to me. She still had the remainder of the summer to work and earn extra money for school, and seemed to be diligently working to do just that.

I had left a note on her door, asking that she stop by the main house the next day to speak with me. When that produced no results, I left another note the following day on the driver's side window of her car, to no avail. Jax often wouldn't return home until almost three in the morning from her bartending job, making it hard to confront her.

I finally opted for the one place I knew it would be hard for her to avoid me. The Wednesday night crowd at Lisa's was about what you would expect for the middle of the week an hour before midnight. It was populated only by the diehard barflies, and those desperate for a hookup. I was neither, which likely made me stand out even more when combined with the flower print sundress I wore.

I saw Jax at the far end of the bar serving a couple of young butch type ladies as they needlessly flirted with her. It was apparent to me neither woman had a chance with her. I knew Jax's type, and neither girl met the standard.

She was halfway back to my end of the bar when she spotted me. Stopping in her tracks, Jax stared at me with a look in her eyes I didn't expect.

Fear.

"Jax, baby girl, I need to talk to you a minute. It's important." I blurted out, seeing the panic in her eyes.

When she didn't respond, I added, "I left notes on your door and car, but I never heard from you."

Again she just stared my way. Frozen like a statue.

"Look, Jax. I don't know why you abandoned our friendship and shut me out of your life. It hurts, but I'm willing to honor your wishes if you feel that strongly about it, but you have to hear what I have to say." I explained resolutely.

Jax said nothing but held up a finger asking me to hold on. She turned and walked back and said something to one of the other bartenders, a butch girl I recalled from my time here in the past.

Approaching me, she pointed to a booth over in the corner and spoke at last, "I only have a minute, and I really don't need the fact I was seen talking to you getting back to Anya."

"Wait," I said, with a bit of a stammer. "Why?"

Jax shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know. The night I introduced you two, something must have happened. She was great at dinner, but then later at the club got even more...firm, with me than usual. Then when we got back to my place, she told me that I wasn't to associate with you anymore and that if she found out I had, she would end things between us and see to it I lost my job at the restaurant. And I need that job, Maizie."

I held up my hands in submission and said, "Look, I don't want to cause you problems. Just promise me that you'll talk to me once you get home tonight. I've got some things I really need to tell you. There are things that I think you really deserve to know."

Sliding out of the booth, I looked down at Jax feeling my soul ache at the thought of having to leave her. "I've missed you, Jax," I told her, surprised at the sound of longing in my voice. "Please, don't let me down."

As I walked away, I was pretty sure I saw a hint of tears in her eyes.

I sat by the pool, waiting to see the sight of Jax's headlights as they splashed across the face of the garage. A bottle of wine and two glasses sat on the table along with the file folder that contained the information on Anya. I had met with Samantha once more, earlier this week, with her providing more information on the other waitress the Bulgarian born bitch was sleeping with. Apparently, the young woman still lived with her parents in an affluent suburb south of Atlanta. The two met on Tuesdays and Thursdays during the week while Anya's kids were in school.

Also, much like Jax, the girl thought there's was a committed relationship. She even wore Anya's collar, the significance of which Samantha had to explain to me. That told me this young lady was likely a lot more into Anya's brand of kink than Jax was.

I saw the headlights I'd been waiting for and felt my heart quicken. I'd been miserable since my seductive young waif had abandoned me. Even Darren had made a few comments about how down I seemed during the short time he'd been home. He was currently on the road in Charlotte, overseeing a critical stage on a project there. I wasn't expecting him home until midweek.

I heard a car door shut and the echoes of footsteps across concrete battling with the night sounds of tree frogs. The gate to our privacy fence opened, and for the first time in two weeks, Jax walked through it, making my heart race.

Sitting down across from me with a blank expression on her face, Jax looked first at the folder my elbow rested on before letting her eyes go to mine.

"Thanks for doing this. I'm sorry for showing up at your work, but I was at a loss as to what else I could do." I told her.

"What is that?" Jax asked, her eyes instantly going to the folder that rested underneath my hand. The light sheen of tears that coated them and slight quivering of her bottom lip told me she feared my answer.

Knowing this was the moment I'd been dreading, I said, "First off, Jax, when you suddenly cut me out of your life with no explanation. I was really hurt. I thought we had grown so close during the short time you'd been here, and I couldn't understand the sudden iciness."

"Anya...she..." Jax started to say.

I held up a hand, cutting her response off. "I figured it had something to do with her. I got the vibe when she was here that she didn't care for me, or for how close we were."

Not sure how honest I should be, I hesitated before deciding to add, "To be honest, I didn't like her either. Though I had absolutely no right to feel that way, I think I was jealous of her."

"Oh," Jax said, surprise evident on her face, and another emotion too. She was pleased, trying to hide it but definitely delighted to hear my admission. Seeing her reaction sent a flutter throughout my insides.

Fighting off the sense of satisfaction I felt at her reaction, I said, "I was concerned and upset, and maybe it wasn't my right to do it, but I had a friend look into Anya."

Jax's eyes went back to the file my arm rested on. Pointing my finger at the folder, I said, "Had she turned up nothing, I would have let it go and been forced to accept the fact you didn't want me in your life."

"That's not true. I do," Jax mumbled just loud enough for me to make out.

"I know that now, baby girl," I said, feeling guilty as I watched tears begin to roll down her cheeks.

Steeling my resolve, I said, "You told me Anya was divorced, right?"

Jax wiped at her eyes, making a mess of her eye makeup. "Yes, for three years now."

"No, according to county records, she's still married. Her husband works nine months out of the year in Abu Dhabi. Every three months, he's given a month off to be with his family. My investigator says Anya and the kids travel to Europe where the family meets up in Sofia, Bulgaria, where they're all from."