With Open Arms Pt. 02

Despite her smile, fresh tears filled Marianne's eyes. Just as she started to speak, her phone toned, signaling an arriving text. "Sorry," she said, "that's Zoe's tone. If I don't answer her right away, she can get irritable."

Marianne tapped her phone screen and stood up quickly after reading the text. "I have to go, Jenn; she's not happy with me. I lost track of time, and if I'm going to mitigate her punishment, I have to get downstairs quick."

Jennifer watched her walk away, stunned at what was happening. She couldn't believe she'd just admitted her love to Marianne only to have her run away to soothe her mistress's hurt feelings. She watched her grab the handle to the door leading back inside when she paused. Looking back, Marianne called out, "I enjoyed this, Jenn. I've missed you." And then she was through the door and gone.

Later as she laid in bed, she took out her cell phone and dialed a familiar number. "Jenn," said the voice through the speaker, "what can I do for you?"

"Hey Charlie, you got a minute to talk to an old friend, maybe even offer a little advice?"

She explained her meeting by the pool with Marianne and the surreal way it had ended, finally asking, "What am I supposed to do from here, Charlie. I mean, I admitted to being in love with the girl only to have her walk away, basically saying, "Nice conversation."

Charlie surprised her by saying, "Well, you didn't say you were in love with her you gave her several what if's and then basically said you gave up when you found out that she was living with someone. I mean, I knew what you meant, but maybe she needs to have you come right out and say it." She then jokingly said, "Hey, her domme is always telling her what to do so you could order her to accept your love."

"You are so not funny right now," Jennifer moaned before teasing back, "maybe I should have called Tabby; instead, she's normally a more compassionate person you anyway."

The sound of Charlie laughing came through the receiver. "That's because dear Tabby is perpetually stoned. How that girl is getting through school with the grades she's getting is beyond me. I study regularly, and I'm lucky to pull in a B average."

"So, what do I do, Charlie?" Jennifer asked.

"I think the next chance you get you should seriously be honest with her, honest and direct. Tell her you're in love with her and want to be with her, really that's all you can do. You have to be ready to let down though in the event she decides to stay with her girlfriend."

Jennifer laid in bed later that night listening to one of her Dad's old Steely Dan albums and drinking single malt scotch. She was commiserating the joke that was her own love life. Jennifer wondered if she was always destined to lose out when it came to love, and if so, was it her fault? After all, she was the common denominator to all her tragedies; perhaps she was the problem. The song Deacon Blues started playing, and the chorus seemed to fit just how she felt.

Learn to work the saxophone

I play just what I feel

Drink Scotch whiskey all night long

And die behind the wheel

They got a name for the winners in the world

I want a name when I lose

They call Alabama the Crimson Tide

Call me Deacon Blues

Even thinking through her self induced alcohol-laced fog, she knew she had to make some changes in her life. Whether things worked out with Marianne or not, she knew she couldn't continue down the path she was currently on. When she'd had regular physical therapy to occupy her mind, she'd had something to focus on that prevented her mind from going to dark places. Now, that was no longer the case, so she knew she'd need new things to occupy her time other than drinking and lounging around. Those two left her too much time on her hands, and that might send her down a dark path.

She knew the building had a full-size gym because she'd seen it when touring the place with the property manager. That would do to occupy her mornings, but she would need something to fill her afternoons and evenings until classes started up. Perhaps Kacy would have an idea, other than wild lesbian sex, that is. She had to have things she regularly did other than work and hook up with strange women.

Setting her empty glass of scotch atop a coaster on the nightstand, she turned off the lamp and settled in to go to sleep. The last thoughts on her mind weren't of working out or finding new activities, though.

They were of Marianne.

Chapter 7: Sweet Child Of Mine

The next morning, she forced herself from the bed promptly at six. It wasn't an easy task as she'd become accustomed to sleeping in and feeling slightly hungover from the previous nights drinking. Still, she knew she'd have to force herself to maintain a certain level of discipline if she was going to be successful at her new endeavor. After relieving her bladder and putting her hair up in a ponytail, she slipped on a pair of running shorts and a sports bra over which she slid a sweatshirt. After putting on her shoes, she packed her gym bag with a change of clothes, a towel, and her shower shoes. On her way out the door, she grabbed a liter of water out of the fridge.

The gym took up the majority of the third floor, so after pressing the three on the elevator panel, Jennifer settled her frame against the back wall, her eyes shut. She felt the elevator come to a stop and the doors ding a second before they slid open. Opening her eyes, she immediately recognized the figure that stepped onto the elevator car.

And Zoe recognized her; there was no mistaking that. A little smirk played at the corner of her lips as she stepped on board the elevator, her back to Jennifer's. "Don't think I won't throttle you, bitch," Jennifer thought to herself." She fought the urge to stare at the back of the older woman's head, instead choosing to focus on the lights above the elevator doors as they descended in order.

"Morning workout?" Zoe asked.

"Yeah, thought I'd get back into the grind," Jennifer replied flatly.

Zoe turned to her, the smirk still present on her face. "This is my normal morning routine. It gets my blood pumping and helps clear my head for the day. I'm Zoe, by the way." She held out her hand towards Jennifer; the younger woman studied it as if it was diseased before finally taking it and saying, "Jennifer."

Zoe's smile widened. Jennifer had the sudden vision of a hungry shark at the sight of her white teeth. Shaking the thought off, Jennifer said, "I know who you are. I saw you in the club the other night with M."

"Ah yes, the club, that's where I remember you from so clearly. You're Marianne's friend."

The way she emphasized the word friend sent chills down Jennifer's spine. It told her that Zoe was familiar enough with their story to know there was something between the two women. Once again, she wondered if Marianne was truly safe with this arrogant bitch. She offered no reply, just staring straight ahead as if disinterested.

When the elevator doors opened on the third floor, both women exited with Zoe lagging just enough to walk next to the younger woman. The domme seemed to measure Jennifer as they walked along. Still, she made no extra effort to impress. "Let the cunt underestimate me," she thought to herself, "just like Darren, she might find me a lot tougher than she thinks."

When they reached the gym, both women went their separate ways. Jennifer headed straight to the treadmills and after warming up and stretching, stepped up on the machine and started it up at a slow jog. As she allowed her body to settle into the pace and her blood to begin pumping, she watched Zoe as she went through her circuit training. Zoe was obviously in good shape, her body lean and taut, but there was no real strength in her frame. She maintained her figure by using a low weight, high reps regimen, not the type of training routine that was likely ever to allow her to build any strength.

Jennifer sped up the treadmill until she was at a fast pace, even for her, her running shoes pounding on the revolving track. She could feel Zoe's eyes on her between her sets, further sizing her up. Once Jennifer could tell she had settled into her next machine, she would return the favor noting how much weight the domme used.

After fifteen minutes had passed on the treadmill, Jennifer hit the button that gradually brought it's speeding down to a crawl. Placing her hands on top of her head, she slowly walked as she took deep breaths and willed her heart rate to slow down. Jennifer cooled down and grabbed her towel, and wiped the machine down before making her way over to the small free weights section. The few times she'd made use of the gym, she'd only ever seen men using this area, so Jennifer was surprised as she readied two thirty-five-pound plates on the bar to see Zoe amble over her way.

"Need a spotter?" the woman asked her.

Forcing a slight smile, Jennifer answered, "Not really for this set; it's more of a warm-up for me." The underlying words being, don't fuck with me, bitch, I'm stronger than you.

At her max, Jennifer's best lift ever on the bench had been one-hundred and eighty-five pounds, so the hundred and ten currently on the bar indeed was a warm-up weight for her. She pumped out eight steady repetitions making sure to use strict form. She sat up on the edge of the bench as she caught her breath, noting that Zoe still stood there watching her. When she was ready, she pulled both of the thirty-five-pound plates and replaced them with two wagon wheels, the big forty five-pound wheels. As she settled back underneath the weight, she sensed a presence behind her. Looking up, Zoe smiled down at her with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Ready for that spot?" she asked.

Not seeing the harm, though she didn't think she needed it, Jennifer said, "Sure, why not."

Shooting for six reps at this weight, which happened to be ten pounds more than she weighed, Jennifer steeled her resolve, and once she'd centered her grip, lifted the bar. The first three reps were smooth as could be, but by the fourth, her muscles had begun to tire. As she reached the top of the rep, she saw Zoe's hands hover just over the bar but paid it no mind; after all, it was a typical sight to see from someone offering a spot. As she reached the bottom of the decline on the rep, she never had the chance to push the weight back to the top. Suddenly the bar was pressed down on her neck with Zoe's pressure behind it just enough that she could only hope to keep it from snapping her neck.

"Listen up, bitch," Zoe barked, "Marianne is mine. I own her lock, stock, and barrel. So any thoughts you might have of winning her back, you just put out of your mind, because I will put a hurt on you that your ex could only imagine doing. Are we clear?"

Jennifer gritted her teeth; she desperately wanted to throw the weight off and show this blowhard she wasn't one of her little subs willing to accept being ordered around. She could almost feel the lactic acid as it convened in her muscles, sapping her of her strength. Though it was the last thing she wanted to do, she nodded her head, signaling her agreement.

That wasn't going to work for Zoe, though, "Speak up, cunt, I don't have all day."

Knowing the last of her strength was going, and she was close to choking to death under the bar, Jennifer gave in with great regret. "Yes!" she growled out.

Using her arms to remove a slight bit of the pressure, Zoe couldn't help but drive the knife in a bit deeper, saying, "Good girl, maybe if you continue to be a good little girl, I might one day let you lick her pussy. Of course, that would only happen after you'd sucked my toes and licked my asshole."

And with that, she hefted the weight up and back onto the safety of the bench support. Jennifer quickly sat up and spun around facing the older woman, her eyes flaring with fire. "You crazy bitch, you could have killed me!"

Zoe turned to walk away, saying over her shoulder, "And don't you forget it, bitch."

Jennifer sat back down on the bench in a state of shock. She had severely misjudged both the domme's strength and audacity. That was a mistake Jennifer could ill afford to let happen again. No, she would have to put in some serious thought as to the best way to handle Zoe. Two things occurred to her simultaneously, one, that there was no way she could leave Marianne in this bullies care, and two, she now knew the perfect way to occupy her time until school started.

As she stepped into the dojo later that night, she looked around for the instructor of the class. She had described herself over the phone as being very easy to spot. There were four or five women from the previous class still milling about though none of them fit the description she'd received. She was looking for a stocky woman of average height, with a buzz cut and a black belt. Jennifer spotted her mark, leaving the bathroom and decided the description fit her almost perfectly. Jennifer wouldn't have called her stocky. Powerfully built seemed a more apt description for her, similar to that of a power-lifter.

As she approached the woman, she could see a hint of recognition on her face. "You must be Jennifer," she said, holding out her hand. Jennifer took the hand offered to her and returned her smile. "I guess that would make you, Liza?" Jennifer noted the strength in the woman's grip. The gi she wore likely made her body look thicker than it was. Unlike the tighter and lighter versions worn by practitioners of Karate, the traditional judogi was made from a more substantial material and tended to be looser, allowing for more body movement. "That would be me though my mother gave me the name Elizabeth. My little brother had a speech impediment that made it just about impossible for him to say my name, so I became Liza. Let's head up to my office."

Jennifer followed her up a narrow flight of stairs and down a short hall to an open door. As they entered, Liza pointed to a padded chair and said, "Please, have a seat." Jennifer settled into the chair and watched as Liza removed the top of her gi and moved behind her desk to have a seat. Just as she thought, the woman was thick with muscle, not fat. She felt sorry for anyone misguided enough to cross her.

"So," Liza said as she sat down behind the desk, "If I'm to understand you, you want some private instruction in my disciplines. What I don't get is why you don't just take one of the regular classes. It would be a hell of a lot cheaper."

Jennifer shook her head and said, "Money isn't an issue for me. My problem is not being able to defend myself. I'm in excellent shape both aerobically and anaerobically. I was in an abusive relationship that almost cost me my life. He's not a threat anymore; he's dead. Still, there are other threats out there that are still viable, and while I'm not looking to get physical with anyone, I'd like to be able to handle myself if necessary."

Liza stared across at her, taking in all she was hearing. She paused briefly before sitting back and asking, "And this viable threat, tell me about him."

"To begin with, it's her, and she's about my height, wiry but strong, a doctoral student at the local university and believes I'm after her girlfriend. Oh, and she's also a domme who one friend thinks is a serious sadist."

She sat forward at the last bit of info seems to take a particular interest

"What makes you think she's a sadist? Lots of people outside the lifestyle mistake normal behavior between a dominant and submissive for the rough stuff, even if it isn't." Jennifer shrugged her shoulders and said, "It seemed rough to me, but I'm not into such things; with my history, they're a definite turnoff. My friend is a bartender at a local bar that caters to that crowd, so she sees a lot of them around. This girl drug her girlfriend off the dance floor by the hair of her head. My friend said she just about wrenched her arm out of the socket..."

"What is it?" Liza asked.

Sitting forward and seeming agitated Jennifer replied, "The girl in question, I saw her the next day, and during our conversation, I patted her shoulder, she flinched, at the time I thought it was because she didn't want me touching her."

"But now you think it's because her domme injured her shoulder, right?" finished Liza.

Jennifer nodded her head, "Yeah, I mean it makes sense. I remember thinking at the time how it didn't make sense of her to flinch at my touch, but I didn't know about it until now.

"So operating on the idea that she is abusive, what makes you think she's a threat to you?" Liza asked.

Jennifer related the story of her early morning workout and experience with Zoe and the way things had ended. As she listened, Liza grasped her hands together, her eyes focused intently. When Jennifer had finally finished, she sat back and brought her hands to her mouth as if deep in thought.

"And do you think she was sincere in her threat or was it made to scare you off?" Liza asked.

Jennifer shrugged her shoulders, "Well, I had a barbell with a hundred and thirty-five pounds crushing my throat at the time, so I'm taking it seriously."

Liza raised an eyebrow and asked, "And can you just give her what she wants?"

Jennifer's answer was instantaneous, "Fuck no, Marianne has been my friend since we were eight years old. She was the first girl I ever kissed, and I think I might be in love with her. I won't abandon her no matter what that cunt girlfriend of hers wants. I won't put her in danger if I can help it, but I won't ignore it if I find out she's actively abusing my friend."

Liza sat back in her chair and held both hands up in supplication and said, "Okay, okay, I just had to ask. Look, I don't blame you, and keeping everything above board, I have to tell you I'm a domme myself. I despise a lot of the ignorance I've encountered about the lifestyle I live, but I get just as angry when I encounter dommes within the lifestyle that give it a bad name. I don't know how much you know about what goes on in a domme/submissive relationship, but abuse is never okay. A sub always has a safe word to put an instant stop to things in the event they get too intense, and most dominants are adept at knowing when their charge is reaching his or her limits. I have to ask this question, so please don't get riled up again, but is your friend the type that likes pain?"

Rather than get mad, Jennifer rolled her eyes and laughed, "God no," she said, "she's the type to scream bloody murder over a paper cut. She's quite possibly the biggest baby I've ever met when it comes to pain."

"Ah," said Liza as if that cleared up things for her. "Well, the good news is your friend probably isn't being abused too badly right now. You see, there are two types of women these sadist types get off on having. One is the type that loves pain. Put a pain lover together with a sadist, and you have a recipe for disaster. Someone usually ends up either crippled or dead. Put a sadist together with a girl terrified of pain, and it's a virtual buffet for the sadist. You see, they get off on the suffering they cause; it brings them a great sexual release, the more intense of a reaction they get from their sub. Oh, they can be very loving for long periods, but when the need hits them, or you catch them in the wrong mood and violate one of their rules, they will make you suffer to their satisfaction."

She paused there and got up from her chair to walk over to a little mini-fridge. She opened it and grabbed a bottle of water before turning and asking," I'm sorry, would you like some water?"

Jennifer answered, "Yes, please."

Liza handed her the bottle and then sat on the front of her desk as she opened hers and took a long drink before putting the cap back on the bottle and setting it aside, "Let's see, where was I? Oh yeah, I say your friend is safe for the moment because, with her low threshold for pain, it doesn't take much to please this Zoe. Now it may seem torturous for your friend, but in a good sense, no real harm is happening physically."