There were Four in the Bed

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the follow-up story to Almost Perfect on Paper. You don't need to have read that story to still enjoy this simple tale of foursome fun, but feel free to check it out first

1.

It was a little over six weeks after Joanne had first met Bakul and the sight of Bakul's beautiful mouth lapping at her pussy as she sat on her face was a familiar one. Three details made this occasion special, however.

Number one was that it was the first time doing it in 'their' bed. They'd done it in this bed lots of times, but it had always been 'her' bed before. As of last night though they were officially living together. Until now their trysts had been confined to their weekly date nights and date nights had been confined by the availability of childcare. From now on, she could, in theory, have Bakul whenever the mood struck her. In theory, because, last night, like so many cohabitants throughout the ages they'd managed to both fall asleep completely exhausted shortly after the children had gone to bed.

Number two, then, was the corollary of number one. It was their first time doing it during daytime and the first time doing it when they really should be doing something else. The something else in this case was unpacking the rest of Bakul's stuff. It was a Monday, but they'd both taken the day off so that they could deal with the various jobs that moving entailed while the kids were occupied at their schools. It hadn't taken putting many items on shelves for Bakul to decide that it was time 'for a break.' Joanne had agreed on the understanding that she was the one who got to cum. Bakul was a grown woman, but increasingly Joanne had come to realize that she would deliberately play up just so that Joanne would have to act the adult and control her. Her skiving off during unpacking was another manifestation of this.

That led naturally to number three.

The manacles.

Joanne wasn't sure about the manacles. Oh, in terms of taste, they were very nice. One set for wrists and another set for ankles. They were as dainty as you could reasonably expect restraining gear to be and covered in a luxurious red leather. They hadn't been cheap nor had they been a planned purchase. They'd been looking on the Internet for sex toys. Both of them had their own favourites hidden out of reach of their offspring, but Joanne had started them off with the oh-so-cute idea that they should get matching vibrators for play. Then, when Bakul had seen the restraints, Joanne had act the adult again and told her they could get one or the other. To her surprise, she'd taken the restraints.

It all rather suggested to Joanne that she was being set up to be the domme in this relationship. Bakul was only seven years younger than Joanne, but crucially she was still just in her twenties while Joanne had crept over the peak of her thirties and had been left looking at the long drop to being unarguably middle-aged. Bakul played up this relationship and had teasingly starting to call her 'mistress' on their first night together. Joanne could feel it was only a matter of time before she started to play that silly game again.

When that happened, she really was going to have to give her another good spanking.

The restraints had been part of a set. They'd also come with a ball gag which was definitely counter-productive to cunnilingus but and also a collar, leash and blindfold. For the moment they had been bundled up in the highest, least child-accessible part of the wardrobe, but Joanne was sure Bakul would insist they find their way back to the bedside table soon.

Joanne leant forward against the headboard as her climax mounted. It had been a good choice, that bed, as the struts allowed Bakul's arms to go through and then be secured from behind. They'd had to move the bed a little way from the wall, but it had worked quite well. It was funny, Joanne reflected, she still remembered buying that bed from Ikea with her ex-husband a good seven or eight years ago. Oh for a Tardis to go back to that day and tell her past self what she'd end up doing in it.

Her orgasm came suddenly and she let out a deep moan, fastening her thighs tightly around Bakul's ears as she did so and pushing her partner further into the mattress. Joanne shifted and wriggled on her partner's face as her pleasure subsided. Finally, she rolled off onto the bed and lay there panting for a good minute.

"You okay?" asked Bakul after a while.

"Fine," replied Joanne.

"Only we usually talk. You said it was one of the nice things about us. Communication. You didn't say a word through the whole thing."

"You wanted to do it, we did it. We've got work to do." Joanne paused. "No, sorry, I guess that's not really it. I was just thinking, that's all."

"What? You think it's too soon? Moving in together?"

"No, silly, you're the one who thinks it's too soon. You couldn't stay with your Aunt Darpitaa forever and there's no point you trying to look for somewhere affordable in London if we're just three months away or whatever from moving in together anyway. It's a risk, but one where, even if it doesn't work out, we can look back and say 'yeah, I see why we did that'."

"So, what then?" asked Bakul.

"I'm lying here thinking 'You know what? I'm a lesbian. I'm an actually lesbian all of a sudden."

"You keep saying lesbian. We're both bisexual surely?"

"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to," said Joanne. "I'm sure you're the sort to argue that a meal with no meat in it isn't a vegetarian meal unless it's eaten by someone who practices vegetarianism."

"No, no, you've got it the wrong way round. Not everyone who eats a vegetarian meal is a vegetarian. That's undeniable. It's more about identity these days, isn't it?"

"Yes, but someone who eats three vegetarian meals each and every day because they're in a committed monogamous relationship with the chef, but keeps bringing up how they're not a vegetarian and makes it a sticking point every time it's raised...Oh look, I don't know. My whole world's turned upside down and it's just...it doesn't feel like I have some lesbian experience. It doesn't feel like I'm merely in a lesbian relationship. Increasingly, I'm just like, okay, I'm a lesbian now. I mean, if you were to break up with me, heaven forfend, I'd be straight onto...onto...actually what dating app do lesbians use?"

"Grindr?" said Bakul uncertainly.

"I'm pretty sure that's men only. Anyway, the point is I'd be straight on the Internet to find out what dating app lesbians use and I'd damn well use it."

"You'd be straight on?"

"Well, I'd cry for a week, and then Lucy would be all like 'Gran, I think there's something wrong with mummy' and then my mother would drive all the way down here with a big bowl of strawberry trifle and we'd talk it all out -- which is a conversation I'd have difficulty navigating given she thinks you're only a housemate. Okay, see how much you mean to me. Distressed enough for you? Right, then I'd pick myself up, dust myself down, and create a dating profile. I just feel like there's this whole world I haven't explored yet."

"Is this going to be about the bars again?" said Bakul.

"No, it isn't. But, yes, I'd like us to go out to a lesbian bar. I think it'd be fun."

"Why? Bars are noisy, expensive, and annoying. I only go out to bars to pull and I've already got you, so...pffft. Complete waste of a good babysitter."

"No, it's just, you know, it would be good to be part of the community. Be ourselves, be a couple, only outside. We're both new at this and there's probably this whole social circle out there. People to meet, friends to make, stories to hear, and support networks. We could go out and be real lesbians."

"What, me eating out your cunt just now wasn't gay enough for you?" replied Bakul.

"Fine, whatever. Just get on with unpacking, will you? We'd better finish before it's home time."

"Can't," said Bakul.

"Can't or won't?" asked Joanne.

"Can't. You've still got me chained to this bed."

2.

They managed to empty most of the boxes, even if they didn't quite find everything in its proper place, and then Joanne went to pick up the children from their schools while Bakul cooked dinner. There was homework, and afterwards, they all went into the back garden for an impromptu game of swing-ball, the only kind of ball that the tiny garden attached to their terraced house allowed. Finally, there was an extended mediation session as both children attempted to assert their dominance over what was shown on the television. The war between Transformers and Ponies seemed intractable until the common ground of Scooby-Doo was finally reached. Then the two mothers went to clean up the kitchen.

"I was thinking about what you said earlier," said Bakul as she dried a coffee cup. "It might not be a bad idea to set up a dating profile on one of those apps you mentioned. A joint one I mean. I really don't want to waste our precious Friday nights going all the way into Central London just to pay for overly expensive cheap wine, but there's no reason why we couldn't chat, maybe make some friends."

"Hmm," said Joanne. "Not a bad idea."

"Cool," said Bakul. A phone appeared in her hand out of nowhere and she grabbed her lover by the shoulder. Just as she planted a peck on Joanne's cheek, she held the phone aloft and took a double selfie. "I set it up earlier while I was in the car waiting for the children. Just needed the photo to finish it off." She tapped a couple of buttons.

"Wait, what did you put?" cried Joanne. Even though her hands were still covered with soap studs, she tried to grab the phone from Bakul. "Give that here."

Joanne finally managed to wrestle the phone from Bakul's unyielding hands, and crouching her shoulders up to protect from a counter-assault, accessed the profile page. The photo was pretty terrible, she'd been caught by surprise and looked annoyed and out of focus. She could live with it though, more concerning was the text. She read aloud:

"Strict mistress, 47, and her dusky doe-eyed house slave, 19, looking for similarly twisted minds to share their fantasies and experiences. Apply by sending one sentence describing the most perverted thing you have ever done and another sentence describing the most perverted things you've ever thought about. Also seeking reciprocal babysitting arrangement. Hmm?"

"Okay, okay, that was by way of a high-opening bid because I knew you'd want to barter down to something boring."

"How about 'Two newly queer...'" stared Joanne.

"Do we have to use the word queer?" asked Bakul.

"What's wrong with 'queer'?"

"Uggh, I don't know. It doesn't feel like me yet. Like I'm not ready to own it."

"How about 'Two newly lesbian...'"

"As discussed earlier I'm not a lesbian and I'm not convinced you are either. Besides I don't think you can be 'newly lesbian'. It's supposed to be something that was always latent."

"Fine. Fine. How about I put 'J -- Brackets - Thirty-six - bisexual leaning les - Close brackets - and B - Brackets - Twenty-nine - bisexual leaning a pain in the ass - Close brackets - recently discovered true natures and each other -- full stop - Looking for like-minded friends in the North East London area. Also seeking reciprocal babysitting arrangement - Brackets children ten and eight - Close brackets."

"Why are you using our real ages?" cried Bakul. "Nobody ever uses their real ages on dating sites."

"It's not a...we're not using it as a dating site. Fine, drop a couple of years off if you must. Anyway, be quick and get back to drying up. I'm going out to hang up the clothes."

There followed another period of domestic bliss and then one of strife as a blended house meant a blended bedtime and negotiations were tense for a while. Finally, her face washed and her teeth brushed, Bakal squeezed into bed next to her girlfriend. "Time for my reward," she cooed.

"Reward?" said Joanne looking up from her book. "I ought to spank your arse raw for all that profile nonsense earlier."

"Why mistress, that is my reward," said Bakul fluttering her eyelashes. She grabbed her phone from the bedside table and lay perpendicular across Joanne's lap.

"Hang-on. I may be new to all of this, even the most lenient mistresses don't allow checking messages during a punishment session, surely?"

"I'm just checking the profile...oh." Bakul's demeanour changed from playful to serious and then to a nervous laugh all within a couple of seconds.

"What?" asked Joanne suddenly worried.

"Err...do you know a Leslie Warrick? Went to your secondary school perhaps?"

Joanne groaned. It all made too much sense. There'd never been anything latent about Leslie. She'd always known what she was and wore it proudly. It was amazing how she'd taken their school's regulation uniform and their regulation hair style and made them as queer as fuck. She'd been out and proud which had meant dealing with a lot of childish shit even in sixth form. With a name like Leslie, the bullies hadn't exactly had to strain their imaginations much. Joanne had never been cruel to Leslie herself, but she'd never exactly stood up for her either and they'd never quite been actual friends.

Reading her face, Bakul continued. "She writes 'Oh Em Gee, you guys are so adorable. I always had my suspicions but, wow, good for you - Thumbs up - Thumbs up - And at our age too. - Brackets Thirty-three - El Oh El - Close Brackets. Would love to catch up or meet up when you're free. We're over in Bethnal Green so probably quite close. P.S. Other lady in pictures is Rachel, the wife - P.P.S. Sorry -- face sitting yes, babysitting not so much."

"Shit," said Joanne. "I think you just outed us."

"I thought you wanted to be out?" said Bakul.

"I meant a controlled out. In stages. Close friends then sympathetic family, work, neighbours then unsympathetic family. I had it all planned out."

"Did you draw a flow chart?"

"Quick, change the profile picture to something from the Simpsons or two animals doing something cute."

Bakul tapped at the phone. "There you go. Don't worry, it sounds like Leslie knows the ins of coming out. She could probably add a few extra lines to your flowchart for you."

"This isn't funny. God knows who else has seen that photo. Did anyone else reply?"

"A few boring ones and this." Bakul passed the phone over.

Joanne scanned the message. "Wow, okay, that is direct. And extensive. Luckily she seems to mainly want to violate you and didn't notice me at all. I'm going to send a message back to Leslie. 'Good to hear from you. Late here now so will reply more fully tomorrow. P.S. We're not exactly out yet, so mum's the word to anyone back home.'"

Bakul wiggled her bottom on Joanne's lap. "Okay, new game. There were four things on that freak's list I might consider saying 'yes' to and seven which are a definite 'no'. Your job is to talk me into all four."

Joanne was just about to give Bakul's ass a playful spank, but she suddenly stopped with her hand raised. "Suspicions? What did she mean suspicions?"

3.

The temperature was hot in the kitchen and tempers weren't much cooler when the doorbell rang. Joanne and Bakul hadn't ever cooked together before and Bakul was still finding her way around a new kitchen. A truce had been reached where Bakul would do the starters and Joanne would take the main (dessert was store-bought and in the freezer). This solved some of the issues over the what and the when, but the where had still been contentious as they both needed to claim the same tiny preparation area at much the same time. Still, nothing enforces peace on a domestic disagreement like guests arriving and they were all smiles when they opened the door.

"Leslie, so good to see you again. It's been too long. This must be Rachel. Delighted to meet you. Is this for us? You shouldn't have."

There was a smattering of introductions, small talk, and the taking of coats. Then the four of them went through to the dining room, and the guests were seated.

Joanne put a hand to the bottle of white wine. "This could probably do with ten minutes in the fridge. The food is on and should be okay for fifteen minutes or so on its own, but I'll just go check on it. Back in a tick."

As she made the rounds of the various pans, she heard laughter from the other room. When she came back, the ice had clearly been broken on her behalf.

"Bakul was just telling us about how you two met and hooked up," said Leslie.

"Don't believe all the details," said Joanne reflexively. "Where were you up to?"

"Your inner thighs," said Bakul. Joanne hit her.

"You'd each been set up on a blind date with the wrong gender. Or the right one, if that's not a spoiler. Then you were in a night club," said Rachel helpfully.

"I think you've got the general idea then," said Joanne quickly. "You can pretty much guess the rest. Bakul, I think you might want to check your potatoes."

Now it was Bakul's turn to hustle out. Leslie very obviously watched her go and, once she was safely out, gave Joanne the thumbs up and mouthed the words, "She's gorgeous."

"So, how about you two," Joanne said, feeling strangely embarrassed. "Have you been together long?"

"About ten years. Married for five," said Rachel, putting her arms around Leslie.

Joanne looked at her guests properly for the first time. Leslie still had traces of her old style, but it had become less militant. Her hair still was short and spiky, but had some softening highlights. She wore trousers and a sleeveless top, but both were free and flowing. The androgyny she'd been known for had been lightened with occasional hints of feminity, if only around the edges. Joanne briefly scanned her tattoos trying to remember which ones she'd had in secondary school and which ones were new.

Rachel, her partner on the other hand was...well, how did one put it? Performing gendered femininity more in line with accepted standards of patriarchal heteronormativity? That was a hell of a mouthful just to be politically correct. Anyway, she had long straight hair, make-up, and a nice floral dress. She'd probably been slender in her youth and wasn't doing badly for her age which was probably a good decade older than Leslie and herself. She wouldn't have looked far out of place behind the cake stand at the local village fete in the nineteen seventies.

"And how did you meet?" asked Joanne.

"Oh, you know. In a steam room," said Rachel.

"What, in a fitness center or a spa or something?" asked Joanne.

"No, in a lesbian sex club," said Rachel.

Bakul re-entered the room at exactly the wrong moment. "Oh, lovely. Joanne will want to know all about that. She keeps saying we should be part of the community. Should I get a pen and paper for the address?"

"I'm afraid it's not there anymore," said Leslie. "A lot of the old places are gone. Still, if you're interested in that part of the lifestyle we can give you some pointers. To be honest, we were getting mixed messages from your profile page and weren't really sure what the deal was tonight."

"Mixed messages?" asked Joanne.

"Well, when the profile was first posted there seemed to be quite a lot on offer, not necessarily all of it serious, and no photo, so I bookmarked it. And then later when I finally saw the two of you, the message had been watered down considerably. Since it was you, I was happy to just swing by and say hi, but I wondered if the two of you were on the same page about what exactly was on offer."

"There's nothing on offer," said Joanne quickly, then remembered she was hosting. "Except Thai Green Curry and Bakul's wonderful selection of Indian starters."

"Way to kill an evening stone dead," said Bakul. "We should at least have a go at drafting a few things that could be on this page before we decide if we are or are not both on it. String them along for a while as we get the salacious details and then, and only then, ascend our moral high ground." She swung herself down onto a chair and turned to their guests. "So, this lifestyle then?"