Page 70 of Games We Play
Yet Leah would not be swayed. She pushed off the wall, hand never leaving the depths of her girlfriend’s unzipped trousers. “Thisismy reward. I’ve thought about you so much… yet you don’t really know in what ways I did.”
“Then tell me.”
Leah tugged on the tie keeping the front of Sloan’s blouse decent. “I want to serve you. Please. Let me.”
Serve.That word was like a pick between Sloan’s eyes.Don’t take your issues out on her.How could she not? Look at her! Leah was the definition of faithful little wench who never strayed from the path, until it suited her whim.Remember that? Remember when you left the path, Mags?
“You don’t know what that means.”
“Of course I know what it means.” Leah ran her hands down Sloan’s torso, her touch lingering on silk and 100% cotton alike. Not a thread of polyester touched either of them. “What do you think I dream about when I’m all alone at night?”
“Serving me, apparently.”
A gentle kiss touched the edge of Sloan’s lips. “Don’t say I don’t know what it means.”
“Fine.” Sloan leaned against the wall, eyes never leaving that expectant visage before her.You want to debase yourself in front of me, go right on ahead.She wouldn’t be the first woman to make that decision. Perhaps, however, Sloan had hoped to have already met the last.
Some women have to figure it out on their own.
Yet when Leah looked at her likethat,with her clear, adoring eyes and a glow that said this was the happiest she had been in years, Sloan couldn’t fault her.Maybe it does make her happy…Maybe it was genuine happiness. At least a level of contentment that didn’t hurt anybody, including Leah.That’s possible? I don’t believe it.The more Leah gently felt up her girlfriend, however, the more Sloan wanted to believe it.
“Do you really want to do this?” Sloan asked her one more time.
She had never seen such a confident nod before. “Don’t you want to know what I can do?”
Too bad there were no smoking signs all over the bathroom. Now was the perfect time for a cigarette, because Sloan wasn’t surewhather answer was.
“Go on, then,” she finally said. “We only have a few minutes in here before management comes knocking.”All those women drinking wine and water. Bah. They’ll interrupt us to pee as often as they can get away with.
“Tell me to do it.”
This was getting ridiculous!This is also not what I had in mind when I dragged her in here.Sloan leveled her gaze upon her girlfriend’s face and said, “If you’re so determined to do what you want, go ahead. The only one stopping you is yourself. I’m here to enjoy the ride.” She then added, “So go on. Make me come, if you can.”
Leah held herself closer to Sloan. The perfume clung more to her hair than her dress. Infatuating. Infuriating.
“You can’t touch a natural part of my body while you do it.”
Leah’s lips parted. Sloan cut her off again.
“You heard me. Do whatever you want, but don’t touch the real me.” Her smirk was more of a byproduct of her self-congratulation for thinking that up – not so much genuine amusement. “Don’t forget who is really in charge here.”
Leah pressed both hands against the wall, careful to not touch a hair on Sloan’s body. “I’ll make you proud.” Her eyes fluttered shut. That wasn’t the only part of her going down. “Let’s play a game, Ms. Sloan.”
That was the thing about games. There was always a loser.
Sometimes the loss was inconsequential. Lost time. A little lost money. Maybe the sex wasn’t as good as usual, or Sloan risked some embarrassment, either in front of her lover or the rest of the world. Those were inconsequential, like what happened to the hem of Leah’s dress when she knelt on the floor of the cleanest restroom in Chicago.
And, sometimes, the loss was the greatest risk of all. The loss came from within. Time could be forgotten. Money regained. Dignity recovered, and they could always try at lovemaking again. Yet was it worth the risk of losing a piece of Sloan’s sanity?
Then again, maybe she would like it.That’s it. That’s the biggest risk I’m taking.Not that she wouldn’t be able to handle it – that she wouldlike it.
Wasn’t this what she searched for over so many years? A chance to know what it felt like to be in the “other” shoes? Sloan had spent much of her youth acting subservient to other people. She followed their whims, preached their truths, and left pieces of herself in unclean hands. What did a woman do when she reclaimed those pieces, only to find the glistening glamour of youth now marred by another person’s dark soul? No matter how much she shined those pieces, they never regained their luster. The only way she could understand what happened was by paying women to reenact those moments with her.
Maybe she could get something back.
This isn’t what I had in mind.Leah wasn’t like those women. She didn’t come into these scenes – let alone start them – with professional, and sometimes personal, detachment. She was invested from the moment they met. Sloan was the one with the power. Power to lead, power to influence, and power to destroy a young woman’s life with one wrong experience.
It was an incredible threat to behold. Could Sloan live with herself if she brought a woman like Leah down that path?
