Page 33 of The Dommes

“Har, har.” I pick up her glass and sample a taste. It’s almost as good as my drink. Almost. “You’ve had plenty of my backwash already.”

“Indeed.” Ira takes her glass back and has her fill in one gulp. Yup. The woman wanted a drink. “Nothing sacred now.”

A part of me is relieved that we can joke about it. Another part of me wonders why we keep bringing it up. Haha, what am I talking about? We keep bringing it up because it’s the only thing we have in common right now… besides work.

And besides the fact we’re both drinking like fish.

I only intended to have one drink. Yet Ira chugs hers back and orders another. Then I gulp mine and order another. You ever had two whiskey drinks back to back? Oh ho ho. I’m in hell. Sweet, tipsy hell.

The world is warm and my body is warmer. Ira’s body ain’t so bad either. She lets me slap my hand on her arm after she tells me a joke about a nun and a CEO. Fuck all if I’ll remember it later. Right now I’m on my third drink and I’m not doing a great job holding it in. Ira holds her liquor better than me. No surprises there. The worst that’s happening is a few yawns and some talk about going to sleep. It’s not a bad idea.

I think about collapsing into bed with her. Maybe not for sex, although I’m sure we could drunkenly paw at each other and maybe get off a little. Mostly I’m imagining curling up against her firm body and inhaling the scent of her skin as I drift off into blissful sleep. My hand lingers on her arm. She looks at it until I yank it away.

“You know what?” I giggle as I lean against the bar and half-ass hailing the bartender for one last round. “We had fun last Friday, didn’t we?”

“Fucking hell.” Ira continues to mumble as I sit here giggling like an idiot. “Yes. Fun.”

“I’m glad you think so because you have a great… God, what do you call that thing? I’m gonna call it your cock.” I’m barely keeping my balance on my stool as I stare at her lap. Is she packing today? I don’t think she is! Whoa. “But you’re a woman, aren’t you? I remember you telling me like five times that you still like feminine pronouns. Do… do girls like you call it your cock? What about dick? Penile pros…” As I continue to make a huge ass of myself, I am incapable of saying the word “prosthetic.”

“Well, I suppose…”

I’m patting her leg, and she’s looking at me as if I’m five steps away from falling on my face and puking all over the floor. Hardly!

“Thanks for the compliment, I guess.”

“You think about doing me again?”

I don’t know where the question comes from. Neither does Ira, gauging the way she looks at me. “Every day.” Excellent! Her speech is slurring almost as much as mine.

“Oh my God. We should have sex again.” It’s a great idea! Me, Ira, a big fat bed that squeaks every time we thrust against each other. I’m sweating like a virgin over here. “You want your pearl polished? Because I have it on good authority that I’m awesome.”

She’s looking at me. Judging me. The kind of judgment that sizes up how good it would be to take another plunge in my body. Her sleepy, alcohol-ridden eyes look as good to me in my likewise drunken state. “Fuck that, Katie. I would lick your pussy clean first.”

“Oooh, you smooth talker!” I lean in closer, and I know my whiskey breath is all over her face. “Take me to bed right now.” My mouth is dangerously close to her ear. I grip her upper arm and think about licking the base of her neck. Even though I’m drunk, I know that’s a bad idea in public. I’m pushing it already.

Her fingers play with the ends of my hair that have fallen out of my twist. “I want to tear this bun apart and pull your hair while I fuck you,” she growls into my ear.

We’re so close to kissing. Her hand is on my thigh. My hand is searching for hers. The bartender comes up and then quickly turns around when he sees us. We’re lucky the bar is empty.

“I was thinking of something a bit different,” I say with a different grin. “How about I tie you to a chair and slam my cunt in your lap?”

Chuckling, Ira picks up my empty glass and tastes the rim. “Tie me up, huh? I’m not into that. I’d much rather tie you up and bite those pink nipples of yours. Oh yeah. I remember what color they are.” Before I can admonish her, she breathes into my ear, her voice deliciously deep. “I want to bring you to the brink of orgasm so many times that you beg me… beg me… to finish you off, your screams echoing off my bedroom wall while I completely lose myself in you.”

I shiver. It almost sounds good. Minus the tying me up part. “Ira…” I sober up a bit, but not enough to save me from my oncoming folly. “I’m not sure that would work.”

“No, it wouldn’t.” She’s serious. Too serious. “We’re both Dommes. It wouldn’t work out, Katie.”

She takes a tentative drink and puts her glass back down. Her hand is still on my thigh, and it tightens there, invigorating my lust but not satisfying my heart. “Not even for a while?”

I don’t know what’s come over me. I really shouldn’t be lusting over Ira like this. Wanting her to hold me, to kiss me, to give me a hard time both in and out of bed. I feel like my high school friends swooning over her. Are any of my high school friends here with her like this right now? No. It’s all Kathleen Allen, Domme.

I can’t ignore who I am. Ira isn’t going to submit to me, and I’m not going to submit to her. It would make us both too uncomfortable. We want completely different things from the other person. We really should end things here. Maybe we’ll hook up a few more times… why couldn’t tonight be one of those nights?

I ask her as much and watch her brows furrow.

“Because I won’t be happy with just sex, Katie.” Her voice is soft, but I can hear a Domme’s sternness in it. Already, she’s talking to me like a sub, and I don’t care much for it. “If we make this a regular thing, then I want to dominate you.”

I bristle.

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